


Where Seas Are Calm

by yoshiyuki



Series: Fishy AU [2]
Category: BUCK-TICK
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Anal Sex, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-09-30 11:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17223056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshiyuki/pseuds/yoshiyuki





	1. 1

Constant shivers wracked through his body. He was going numb. It felt like his muscles were turning solid. The constant spasms coupled with the cold midnight of the sea chilled his drenched body to his bones. He has been clinging onto this small crate of his for dear life after a monstrous wave engulfed their fishing boat earlier today. While the sun was up, the heat that beat down on him burned. But now that it was night, the cold bit vicious. He did not know if he was going to survive through this night. He doubted it.

Being tossed around in the northern sea while fighting to stay on the surface was exhausting. He was tired. Fighting drowsiness, his eyelids felt like they had weights pulling them shut. He knew that falling asleep could be fatal, but sleep was such a sweet temptation. The notion of it felt so calming, so comfortable. He laid his head on top of the crate, damp wood pressing against his cheek. Sighing, his teeth chattered as he let his eyelids droop close and felt his consciousness slip away.

But a sudden jerk and a thump stomped the sleepy spell away. Wasn’t he in open water? What could his crate possibly hit? He was too tired to even lift his head to investigate. The crate scraped against what sounded like wood as he bobbed along. Was it a boat? He began laughing to himself weakly. Perhaps there was still hope for him yet.

More thumping reached his ears, this time from whatever it was that he had collided into. It sounded like footsteps. The thumping approached and stopped. He heard an annoyed groan and the click of a tongue followed by a soft splash of water further away. He felt a hand grab the back of his shirt, lifting him up and out of the water.

Body still shaking from the cold, he feebly opened his eyes and looked up at his saviour; a slim, lanky man dressed in robes that glimmered in the night with his long, messy hair tied up in a ponytail and a rather disdainful look on his face. The man pursed his lips and sighed, rolling his eyes as he muttered, “Why the fuck do people keep showing up?”

“Eh?” What was that supposed to mean?

The man ignored his inquisitive noise, unceremoniously dropping him into the boat before bending over to pick up the crate that he had been floating on. Putting the crate on the deck, the man continued griping as he stomped to the bow and reeled in a fishing rod. “Now everything's going to get wet again. I  _ just _ managed to dry the deck this morning and now,  _ you _ .” The man turned sharply and gestured at him angrily. “ _ You _ simply had to show up.”

“I'm… sorry?” he mumbled, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Nothing made sense.

“Not your fault,” the man muttered dismissively. Instead, he put the fishing rod against a wall, next to a curtain-covered entrance that led into what might be living quarters or the wheelhouse. The man then turned towards the sea and yelled, “Give me a break, won't you?!”

The sounds that were offered as a reply was the quiet sloshing of water and the murmurs of a gentle breeze.

“Atsushi, get back in here, it’s just a kid,” the man continued, his voice less harsh.

He could not see very clearly, but he heard the sound of water breaking and saw the vague shape of something surfacing, dark eyes shining as they blinked. The figure shook its head with small movements, as if afraid. The man sighed, expression softening as he bent over the edge of the boat again. Quiet whispers were exchanged, voices too hushed for him to eavesdrop on. But out of nowhere, there was a shout and the lanky man flipped over the edge, landing in the water with a loud splash.

Shocked, he ran over to the side where the man disappeared from and looked into the water, eyes searching the dark depths for any sign of him. It did not help that it was night and that the only sources of light from the deck of the boat were the single, ancient-looking oil lamp hanging from the bow and the low, incandescent light coming from indoors. It was simply far too dim for him to see anything apart from the lights that reflected off the surface of the water.

He should not have bothered looking though. Just moments later, a hand slapped onto the opposite side of the boat, gold ring glistening in the dim light as the lanky man resurfaced. Pushing himself up and rolling back into the boat, the man groaned and cursed. Staring in surprise at how quick the man came back up, he found it odd that the lanky man did not appear to be drenched at all.

The man sat on the deck, panting as he spoke softly, “Look, I know I won’t drown but please don’t do that again.”

A giggle came from the side of the boat where the man came up from. There was a splash and water sprayed on the man, who now had an exasperated look on his face. With a sigh, he got up and leaned over the side again.

“You’re really not coming in?” the man asked. This time, he could hear him speak. “I’ll be right here… No, I promise- …… It’s alright, it's alright… I’ll do just that… Yes…” A pale hand reached up and the man clasped it, kissing the gold ring on it, similar to the one he wore, before letting the hand slip away.

The man remained still for a moment, watching the water until whatever he was looking at went away. Turning back to him, the man rubbing his face with his hands and sighed again. Displeasure returned to the man’s expression as he beckoned to him and said, “Come. Take the crate with you. Don’t touch anything.”

Without waiting for a response, the man went through the curtains, leaving him trailing behind to catch up. Picking up the crate, still damp from the salt water, he quickly followed after the man, silently wondering if this was real or if he was having some sort of weird fever dream.

Stepping through the threshold, he felt like he was instantly transported into another world. He did not get a proper look at the vessel before he entered, but the space that unfolded before him seemed too long and too wide to fit on a boat like this. The space in here was furnished like a typical living room. Except, instead of a couch, cushions of varying sizes and designs were piled together, surrounding a low table, all of which sat on an intricate woven rug which skewed towards the right side of the space, leaving a pathway to walk through along the left side.

On the far end of the room was a door and to its left, on the adjacent wall, was another door. These were the only empty spaces on the walls which were lined with shelves and cabinets full of knick-knacks and boxes of varying sizes that cast wild shadows throughout the room as a steady fire crackled under a pot in the stone fireplace in front of the cushions and table. Wait, a stone fireplace? He paused. On a boat? He had never seen such a fireplace on a boat before.

As if reading his mind, the man suddenly spoke, “Yes, there is a fireplace. Yes, it is made out of stone. No, it does not make sense.”

Bewildered, he turned his attention back to the man who now stood at a long workbench that stretched out next to the door. “Let me see what you’ve brought for us,” the man said, extending a hand towards him.

He glanced down at the crate in his arms and hesitantly handed it over. He did not know if there was anything of value in it. Neither did he know that he was supposed to offer something to the man. The way the man put it sounded like it was common knowledge but… Who was he anyway? Or ‘us’?

Taking the small crate from his hands, the man set it down on the workbench and picked up a crowbar. He stabbed one end into the tight space under the lid and effortlessly wrenched it apart. He then removed the lid, carelessly tossing it over his shoulder with a clatter. The man peered into the box and hummed, raising his brows with a reaction that vaguely resembled interest. 

Wringing his hands nervously, he hoped that whatever was in it was enough to appease this moody man. He did not know how much of a possibility it was, but he did not quite fancy the idea of getting thrown off the boat and into the water again. He had no idea what the crate contained though. All that he knew that it was buoyant enough to have brought him into this mind-boggling situation.

The man reached in with both hands and gingerly took out the crate's contents. What the man raised in his hands was not what he expected to see. It was a chicken made out of porcelain. He could not quite understand why there would be something like this on their fishing boat. It was far too delicate a thing for their vessel. Perhaps he really was hallucinating.

“Uncanny,” the man remarked, oblivious to his confusion as he turned the sculpture around in his hands, examining it. “Very uncanny,” he repeated, muttering to himself. “Even the feather discolourations are exactly the same,” he went on before smiling to himself and adding, “he'd love this.”

“So it's good?”

The man glanced at him, the look in his eye turning suspicious as he asked, “Where did you get this from?”

“I- I don’t know, sir,” he stuttered, surprised by the sudden flip in demeanour. “I come from a fishing boat. I don’t know how something like this could be sitting in there.”

The man frowned, doubt apparent on his face. Bringing the chicken next to his ear, he shook it but no sound came from inside. He turned it upside down and inspected the bottom, fingers prodding around.“Hm, no seams, no compartments…” the man observed sullenly. “How long have you been with this fishing boat for?”

“This is my first season, sir,” he replied quietly.

Putting down the chicken, the man grabbed his hand and looked at his palms. WIth his prolonged soaking in the sea, his skin was still damp and the fresh calluses that had developed during his time with the fishing boat were stark white. The man rubbed his thumb over the calluses, pressing down hard and he winced from the soreness that lingered.

Seeing his reaction, the man hummed, satisfied. “Good, you’re not lying,” he commented, letting his hand go. Putting the chicken sculpture back into the box, the man asked, “How was the catch?”

“Thin, sir,” he answered. “We've been dragging our net as we move but nothing much has come up.”

“That's not how you fish,” scoffed the man, removing the crate from the workbench. Carrying it to the table in front of the fireplace, he added, “And any experienced fisherman can tell you that there is not much to catch up here at this time of the year.”

“Eh?”

Putting the crate down, the man folded his arms and asked, “Tell me, why did you take this job?”

“Well… Captain was paying twice of what the others offered,” he answered meekly, “and… I needed the money.”

The man sighed and pursed his lips. He felt like he was being judged under the man’s critical gaze. “Were there other boats leaving with yours when you left port?” the man asked.

He paused, eyes tracing the grain of the at the hardwood floor as he tried to recall. “I… don’t think so…” he eventually replied. “Even if there were any, the went in a different direction.”

“Kid,” sighed the man, rubbing his forehead with a hand, looking rather upset. “Kid, you’ve been duped.”

“What?”

The man looked up, giving him a firm stare as he said, “You never were going fishing.”

He was stunned, at a loss for words. What did he mean by that? “If we weren’t going to fish then… what-?”

“Forget it, you’re off that boat now,” interrupted the man as he waved his hand dismissively and began to pick through the numerous cushions. A thought appeared to have struck the man and out of the blue, he asked, “Did you talk to the sea?”

He froze. That was a question that he did not expect. As far as he knew, he was the only one who did such a thing. He has always been mocked by his friends for it but nevertheless, he felt compelled to do it whenever he went out to sea. It was no different for this trip too.

Though, thinking back to how the man cursed at the sea, he might get ridiculed for it. Then again, he had better answer the question, lest he upsets the man and gets himself kicked out. Reluctantly, he replied, “Um… yes… My grandaunt always said to respect the sea if we want her to take care of us.”

The man frowned and blinked, perturbed by what he just heard. “Your… grandaunt?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered. Was that odd?

“Your… Nevermind, I don't want to know.” The man cut himself off and went back to looking through the cushions. “How did you end up in the water?”

“I was on the deck, sir,” he recalled, “pulling the nets in. We were crossing a rough patch of sea when a wave just… swelled up and bowled us over and-”

“Tossed you into the sea,” the man finished, pulling a rather flat cushion out of the pile and setting down by the table. “No wonder you’re here,” he said to himself, “you were sent here.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man ignored his question and beckoned to him, saying, “Sit.”

Deciding not to push for an answer, he walked over cautiously. He still did not quite know where he was and what was expected of him, but it seemed like things would be fine for him, for now. He did not notice it earlier, but he had stopped shivering and his clothes were now dry. Again, it did not make sense for him to warm up so quickly, but this was comfortable.

Sitting down on the cushion, he began to wonder if he actually died and this was some kind of transitory place. Didn't certain cultures believe that a toll had to be paid to the reaper or some kind of ferryman for safe passage into the afterlife? Was that what he just did? Was he truly dead?

“No, you're not dead,” said the man, answering his question as he lifted the lid off the pot over the fire. A wonderful, savoury aroma emerged from whatever was bubbling in the pot. Dropping his voice low, the man added, “This isn't what happens when you die.”

He froze, unsettled by how the man kept responding to his thoughts. How did he know what he was thinking? He did not speak out loud, did he?

This time, the man did not react. Remaining silent, he held a wooden bowl in one hand as he began ladling what seemed like soup from the pot into it. He then put the bowl down on the table and strode off towards one of the cabinets next to the fireplace. Opening a drawer which rattled noisily as its contents shifted with the motion, the man took out a wooden spoon and handed it to him with a single word, “Eat.”

Taking the spoon, he began to stir the soup, wondering it was a good idea to eat something served to him by a man whose intentions he did not understand. It smelt delicious though, and he  _ was _ starving. His stomach growled. Well, no harm trying, right?

He scooped up a spoonful and put it into his mouth. Immediately, he was taken aback. The flavours that exploded in his mouth were much stronger and fuller than he expected, but that was not the most surprising part of it. What shocked him was that he knew this taste. He had known it ever since he was a child. The only difference was that it was a more flavourful version than what he was familiar with.

The click of a door opening distracted him from his excited reminiscing. He barely had the chance to react to the sound when he suddenly felt a presence behind him and a velvety voice spoke into his ear, “Hm? A new visitor? What's your name?” 

He froze. He did not like the feeling that this voice was giving him. It felt almost  _ sinister _ .

“Don't bother answering him,” the lanky man's voice reached his ears. He sounded peeved.

“Oh, Hisashi.” The intimidating voice sounded lighter now, almost melodic. The presence faded away. “I was just teasing your new guest,” the voice laughed merrily. He sounded further away now.

Turning slowly, his eyes came to rest on a slim figure dressed in black robes that seemed to swirl with a myriad of colours each time he moved. While the lanky man, or rather, Hisashi, gave off an air of begrudging hospitality, he did not feel dangerous, unlike this other man. He did not know what it was, but something about him set off the alarm bells in his head, screaming at him to put as much distance between that man and himself as possible.

“By asking for a name?” Hisashi sighed.

“Isn’t it common courtesy to address someone by their name?” the other man smiled as he gathered his long, black hair up and pulled it to one side.

Hisashi rolled his eyes and walked off towards one of the two doors. “I doubt can call it courtesy when it comes to you,” he remarked.

The other man chuckled, “Prickly words coming from someone who has made his first kill before Atsushi.”

Hisashi spun on his heel, eyes flashing as he hissed angrily, “Who told you that?!” The other man was about to answer when Hisashi quickly calmed down and held up a hand. “Wait,” he said, “don’t tell me. It's the sea.”

“Bingo,” the other man said in a sing-song voice. “And to think you even ate a good chunk of him.”

“Quit it,” Hisashi clipped. “Don’t act as if you don’t know why I did it

“How did it taste?”

“Disgusting,” spat Hisashi. “I don’t understand how you can live off-”

“Good,” the other man cut in. “That means you’re far from becoming like me.”

“What?” Hisashi frowned.

“Don’t become me. Don’t develop a taste for it,” the man continued. His demeanour turned serious. “I didn’t get to tell you this with Atsushi around, but there’s a consequence for indulging in it and what it does to you will  _ not _ make Atsushi happy.”

Hisashi went silent as if letting the man’s words sink in.

He quietly ate his soup and munched on the shellfish in it throughout the conversation, silently listening in as he tried to grasp what the two men were talking about. From what he gathered, it sounded like none of the men was… normal, per se. The phrases ‘first kill’ and ‘ate a good chunk of him’ kept repeating themselves in his head. All of it sounded so ominous. They cannot truly be referring to  _ people _ , could they? But was that why he felt so threatened by the other man?

“Is that why Atsushi refuses to stay onboard?” Hisashi’s quiet question derailed his train of thought, bringing his attention back to the men’s conversation. “Because he can’t stand what I might do?”

“You should know better than to think that,” scoffed the other man. “It’s more likely that he doesn’t want any chance of his presence causing something similar to happen again.”

Hisashi clicked his tongue and groaned. “But it's not his fault…” he moaned. “Can’t you convince him to come back in?” Hisashi asked. “I’ve tried but no matter what I say, he refuses.”

“I highly doubt that I’d be successful, but I’ll try,” promised the other man. “It’s the least I can do in return for this lift.”

“Speaking of which, I don’t quite understand how to you got stranded on an island surrounded by warm waters-”

“I mispredicted and got carried away, alright?” the other man snapped. “Shit happens.”

A soft chuckle came from Hisashi.

“I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?” the other man sighed.

“Nope,” Hisashi confirmed. “Not unless you manage to convince Atsushi it's okay to come back in.”

“Compelling, but as I said, I can only try,” said the other man. He could not hear the man's footsteps, but based on how his voice sounded further away now, he was probably on his way out. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah,” Hisashi acknowledged, shuffling away. “Bye.”

The room went quiet. All he could hear was the crackling of the fire and the soft waves of the sea outside this space. It would have been calming if not for the tension that built up in him after hearing the conversation between the two men. As he chewed on the sweet flesh of a clam, he suddenly recalled a myth that seafaring men kept talking about back at home. It was one about a fisherman and his mermaid wife who would pick up sailors who were lost at sea and guide them home, with some exceptions. After all, there were some who went missing and were never heard from again.

He could feel Hisashi looking at him as he settled into the cushions behind him with a sigh. “I'm sure you have questions,” Hisashi muttered, addressing him.

He froze, thoughts stuck in limbo as he tried to think of something to say. Sure, he did have questions, but where to start? And did he even want to know the answer to some of them?

“Um…” He swallowed nervously. Well, first things first… “What is going to become of me?”

There was a heavy sigh. “I don't know yet.”

“Am I… Are you going to eat me?”

“Not unless you piss me off,” Hisashi answered flatly. He spun around quickly, eyes wide with alarm as he met Hisashi's stony stare. “What?” Hisashi asked, his tone unchanging. “There's no reason for you to worry unless you intend to pull some kind of shit, is there?”

He was right. Still, it did perturb him that he had been picked up by someone who would eat a fellow person. Staring at his soup, he suddenly wondered if there were…  _ other _ ingredients in it. He immediately felt his appetite disappear.

“How's the stew?” Hisashi asked.

“I like it… It tastes like my grandaunt's but better,” he answered quietly.

“Good, glad you liked it.”

“But…”

“But?” Hisashi echoed.

“There's no…”

“No what?”

He swallowed nervously, sincerely hoping that his next question would not mean the end of him. “There's no human flesh in this, is there?”

“Kid.”

“Yes, sir?”

“That's absolutely disgusting.”

Relieved as he was that he did not accidentally consume another person, he was now worried that he had offended Hisashi. “I-I didn't mean to-”

“Even _I_ would get in trouble if I had such a stupid idea to sully decades of hard work put into that seafood stew with beef, much less _human_ _flesh_ ,” Hisashi rambled. “Sure, we can easily survive by eating a whole bunch of other things and I'm the chef but this is more for Atsushi enjoy than for me to- Argh?!”

Hisashi suddenly exclaimed in shock. Startled, he turned around to see what happened.

The other man has returned, his straight, black hair now tied up in a low ponytail with what looked like a short length of hemp rope. He seemed to have approached Hisashi from behind, taking him by surprise. The yet unnamed man laughed, thoroughly amused by Hisashi's reaction while Hisashi curled his lip and wrinkled his nose.

“Don't do that!” Hisashi snapped, his embarrassment with his overreaction turning to annoyance. “Why are you back so quick anyway?! Weren’t you leaving!?”

“Just here to tell you it didn't work, as I expected,” the man said, chuckling with a wide grin on his face. “He said he'd only consider it if you'd speak to him in the water.”

Hisashi groaned loudly, dragging his hands down his face. “Whyyyyyyy?!”

“Because,” the man shrugged. Turning to him, who has been watching the exchange in silence, the man said, “I mean, seriously. Have you ever heard of a merperson who hates being in the water?”

He stared back at the man, surprised. “He's… a…”

“Even your visitor thinks you're still human,” the man laughed. He brushed the bottom of Hisashi's robes aside, revealing iridescent skin that reflected the firelight. “Look.”

“Hey!” Hisashi replaced his robes, covering his shins again.

“Since Atsushi isn’t here, I really need you to enlighten me now,” the man said to Hisashi. “You're not going to drown, so why do you act as if you will?”

“I'm not-!” Hisashi clicked his tongue and groaned. “Okay, listen. Have you ever experienced drowning?”

“Obviously not,” laughed the man. “How ridiculous-”

“That's the problem,” Hisashi cut in. “You know how water fills your lungs before you can breathe-”

“What lungs?” asked the man.

Hisashi stared at him blankly. “You're telling me you have gills or what?”

“Pft, no. I think it just filters through my skin for me.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Yes?”

Hisashi frowned deeply with a faraway look in his eyes as he tried to wrap his mind around what the man just said. “How does that even…?”

The man let Hisashi struggle with the concept of it for a while more before he finally burst out laughing. “I'm kidding,” he finally admitted. “Yes, water fills the lungs.”

Hisashi glared at him. “I really want to strangle you right now.”

“Oh, but Atsushi will be so sad,” the man lamented, casting sorrowful eyes up at the ceiling as he touched his cheek.

Hisashi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Aren't you glad that he's around.”

“I could say the same for you,” smirked the man as he gave Hisashi a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hisashi sighed, seemingly reminded of something. “Anyway, as I was saying, that feeling of water filling the lungs, it's the exact same sensation as drowning.”

“Ah.”

“How the hell am I supposed to override my body's instinct to get out of the water whenever that happens?!” Hisashi seethed.

“Mind over matter,” shrugged the man.

“Do you know how difficult it is-”

“Practice makes perfect,” the man interrupted, looking just as unperturbed as before. “You can't fix it by running away from it.”

Hisashi pursed his lips and sighed. “But I…”

“Hisashi, you've been stuck in this state for two decades now. You can't stay like this forever,” the man said chidingly.

“I know,” Hisashi groaned. “But…”

“No ‘but's,” said the man firmly. “If you love Atsushi enough to kill a man for him, you definitely love him enough to do this. Now, he's sitting down there, waiting for you. You either get down there and start getting used to it or leave him waiting for god knows how long.”

Hisashi went silent, pensive as he stared at the floor in front of him.

Deciding to leave Hisashi to his own thoughts, the man stood up and started walking away again. “I’m leaving for real now. Don’t keep Atsushi waiting,” he said as he stepped through the curtains and disappeared without a backward glance.

The room sank into silence again. This time, with the food gone, there was nothing else for him to occupy himself with. He sat awkwardly at the table, eyes fixated on his empty bowl as he tried to think of something to do or say. Then again, what did he know about Hisashi’s situation? He has not even met this ‘Atsushi’. It was not his place to say anything, not at all.

“You said the stew tastes like your grandaunt’s?” Hisashi asked out of the blue.

Puzzled as he was by the change in subject, he answered, “Yes, sir.”

“What does she do?”

“She runs a restaurant, sir,’ he replied. Why would Hisashi be interested in this? “Her stew is a speciality.”

Hisashi hummed and fell silent again, making him wonder if he said something wrong. Before his thoughts began building up his anxiety again though, Hisashi asked another question. “Where did you come from?”

“Um… There’s a cluster of islands south from here,” he began. Unsure about where Hisashi knew place names, he proceeded to describe, “Among them, there’s a port city on the biggest island, the main island, essentially.”

“It’s on the east side of that island, isn’t it?” Hisashi asked.

He nodded warily. How did Hisashi know?

“There’s a beach outside the city, isn’t there? Like a ten minutes’ walk away,” Hisashi asked again, his voice dipping lower.

“Um, yes,” he replied, growing more and more baffled by Hisashi’s questioning.

“Is there a cottage by it?”

“Yes, sir. I think a distant relative owns it.”

Hisashi stood up suddenly and he jolted away in bewilderment. He could not quite understand why whatever he said seemed to rile Hisashi up, but that was exactly what his words did. Hisashi seemed to bristle with some sort of restless energy as his eyes stared fixedly at the dancing flames in the fireplace.

“Um-”

“You,” Hisashi interrupted, “will sleep in the room behind that door.” Hisashi raised his right arm moved as he spoke, the light fabric of his black robes reflecting prismatic flashes as he pointed at one of the doors behind him while staring at the fire. “If you see stairs, it’s the wrong door.”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered quietly. “The bowl-”

“Leave it,” Hisashi said, his words curt as he began to walk towards the entrance. “I’ll deal with it after I come back,” he added. Pushing the curtains in the entryway aside, Hisashi turned and gave him a hard look. “Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Nodding quickly, he muttered again, “Yes, sir.”

The piercing gaze remained on him for what felt like an eternity before Hisashi finally turned and left, calling out for ‘Atsushi’ as he did. As much as his surroundings piqued his curiosity, he was deathly afraid of the repeated warnings to not touch anything. Hisashi was intimidating enough from the beginning but knowing what he now knew… He shuddered. He definitely did not want to get on the wrong side of Hisashi.

He felt the warmth fade away as he removed himself from his comfortable spot in front of the fire and walked towards the two doors in the corner of the room. He did not know which to open, but Hisashi did say that stairs indicated that it was the wrong door.

Swallowing his nerves, he put his hand on the knob of the door that faced the fireplace and turned his wrist. He pushed it open, peeked in, and saw stairs. One led up, while another led down. Another two more floors? How big was this boat? How high or low did the stairs go? He felt an urge to explore growing in him. He could take a quick look, right? Would Hisashi know? He paused and felt a heavy feeling drop into his stomach. He was almost a hundred percent sure that even if he did go in and come out before Hisashi came back, Hisashi would somehow know that he was snooping around.

Hastily stamping out his wayward urges, he shut the door and opened the one on the adjacent wall which faced the entryway. He opened it and stuck his head in. It was a small room with a small desk against one wall and hammock in the middle of it. There was no doubt that this was the room that Hisashi told him to rest in.

Stepping in, he closed the door behind him. Soft moonlight that streamed in through a porthole illuminated the space, casting everything in a gentle silver glow. He went over to the porthole and looked out at the calm sea. It seemed as though the rough waves that he struggled through never existed at all.

He sighed and hopped into the hammock. Making himself comfortable, he could not help but wonder what was to become of him. Was he ever going to go home? Would he ever have the chance to see his family again? Was he going to get cast out to sea again? Or was he going to be trapped here until death claims him? Even worse, was he going to be kept here to get fattened up and eventually eaten?

With dismal and morbid thoughts swimming through his mind, sleep seemed elusive. Yet before he knew it, his eyes were shut and he drifted away into unsettling dreams of mermaids and the unknown depths of the sea.

 

* * *

 

Imai sat on the gunwale, staring at the black waters below him that threatened to swallow him. Each time he has gone into the water, Atsushi has been around but this time, Atsushi has not responded to his calls. He was sceptical when he was told that Atsushi was waiting for him underwater, but with this lack of response…

He sighed and put his face in his palms, elbows on his knees. It was not that he had a problem with swimming in open water. It was just the breathing that hindered him. Curling his fingers, he looked at the water again, quietly hoping to catch a flash of Atsushi's pale iridescence approaching him.

Imai waited, but despite his enhanced vision, he saw nothing and it did not feel like anyone or anything was coming either. If he did not so urgently want to speak with Atsushi about their new guest, he would have opted to wait it out. But he needed to know what they were supposed to do with him, if they were supposed to send him home or just let him rest for a day or two. Well, usually they took their guests home but this time, with his hunch, Imai just was not so keen on that option.

Hands to his sides, Imai closed his eyes and slowed his breathing in an attempt to calm his racing heart. That guy was right though. Imai had to get over this sooner or later. Later was more probable than sooner but whichever the case, he might as well start now. But his pulse refused to slow and his fingers still gripped the gunwale far too tightly.

“Fuck this shit.”

Pushing himself off, Imai dropped into the water. He felt his robes stick to his skin the moment moisture soaked in, turning into hard, uneven scales that fended off the sharp chill of the northern seas and wispy fins that propelled him through the water. Imai held his breath as he looked for Atsushi, hoping that he could find him before he needed to adapt his breathing. It was rather uncomfortable for him to be swimming like this though. He was accustomed to legs, not a tail. Still, Imai could not deny that it was more effective than flailing around with legs.

Turning, Imai swivelled around, eyes searching past the moving shadows in the gloom for signs of Atsushi. He could feel his chest starting to tighten and he released a few bubbles of air, watching them float away under the filtered moonshine before turning his focus back to looking for Atsushi. Where was he?

A few more bubbles of air escaped Imai's lips. It would not be long before he had to start drinking in the salty water. He could head back up to breathe, but in all honesty, that was an utter a waste of time and effort to him. It was just plain troublesome. Even the discomfort of faux drowning could not convince him to do that.

Imai dove deeper, past the bottom of the hull of their boat as he continued looking out for Atsushi. Releasing more air, Imai began to wonder how long he could remain in control of his breathing. All he knew was that he was bound to slip into a panic the moment he started breathing in water. It was the one thing that he could not fight no matter how hard he tried.

The deeper Imai went, the heavier the water weighed on him, forcing him to release even more air. He could feel his chest caving, the lack of air making it feel like his lungs were about to collapse into himself. The familiar sensation of that extreme urge to open his mouth and breathe began to take over, overriding his desire to keep searching for Atsushi.

Imai doubled over, curling his body up, fighting the reflex to breathe even as his lips parted and water began flooding into his mouth and down his throat. That same panic he has experienced so many times before returned to seize his heart again, squeezing his chest and drawing out a soundless cry from him. Before his eyes vision began to dim, turning everything into darkness. Eyes closed, Imai no longer knew which way he floated but he barely had the headspace to worry about getting lost.

He barely noticed it when arms circled around him from behind, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. With one arm around his waist, a hand pressed on his forehead, tilting his head back against a shoulder as a familiar voice cooed into his ear, calming him. In the water they remained, suspended in motion as nails lightly scraped across Imai’s irregularly shaped scales while he gradually calmed down. Breathing with the water felt heavy, like extra weight restricting his chest, but at least his body was no longer reacting as if he was about to die.

“What do you think you’re doing, trying something like this without me?” Atsushi asked gently, chidingly as he nuzzled against Imai, fingers still tracing Imai’s angular scales. “What if you drifted away before I found you?”

“You'll find me,” Imai muttered, relaxing into Atsushi with a weary sigh as he clutched Atsushi’s hand and kissed the back of his hand. “You always do.”

“I won't lose you again,” Atsushi whispered. Imai thought that Atsushi was going to turn sullen again when he nipped playfully at Imai's shoulder, gave him a peck on his cheek, and asked, “But what  _ were _ you thinking? I thought I told him to tell you that I’d be back soon.”

“What?” Imai spun around, confused. “But he said you were waiting for me down here.”

Atsushi frowned and pursed his lips. Staring off into the distance, he muttered, “What is he trying…”

“Who knows,” Imai sighed, wrapping his arms around Atsushi. “On the other hand, what were  _ you _ doing down here? I kept calling but you didn't respond.”

“Eh?” Atsushi blinked, surprised. “I didn’t hear you at all. Maybe I was too engrossed with checking the hull…”

“Is there something wrong with it?” Imai asked, concerned.

“Oh, no no, just making sure that it’s all fine,” Atsushi smiled. “There’s not much to do down here on my own after all,” he added, hands running down the sides of Imai’s body.

“You could’ve just stayed on board, napped the room or something,” Imai muttered, ignoring the itch.

Atsushi chuckled softly and shook his head before burying his face in Imai’s shoulder. “I don’t want to risk anything,” he muttered. “At least not until you’re sure that there’s nothing suspicious about our guest.”

Imai kneaded the back of Atsushi’s neck with his fingers and gave him a peck on his head as he tightened his embrace. He sorely wished he could wipe the memory of the incident from Atsushi’s mind, but he knew that was not possible. He wanted to apologise for his carelessness again but Imai knew that like his numerous attempts since that day, Atsushi would not accept it.

Settling for another sigh instead, Imai stroked Atsushi’s hair as he said, “Well, I’ve already said that he’s just a kid but…”

“But?” He could feel Atsushi tense in his arms, dreading what he might say.

“Mmh…” Imai pinched his nose as he wondered how he should put this. “Can we… just put him back in the sea instead of sending him home?”

“But aren’t we supposed to take him home?” Atsushi asked with a tilt of his head, perplexed.

“I don’t… really want to go there,” Imai muttered.

“Why not?” Atsushi asked, taking Imai by the hand as he began to swim towards the surface. “Have you been there before?”

“Rather… I think we’ve lived there.”

Atsushi stopped and turned, a sparkle in his eyes as he said, “You mean…”

“The descriptions he gave matched, but-”

“Are we going home?” Atsushi asked, breathless with excitement.

Imai grimaced. “I’m hoping that it’s not… I didn’t ask him specifically-”

“I don’t understand,” Atsushi frowned. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“It’s not… I…” Imai could not find the words to explain his reluctance. “This…” He gestured at their boat. “This is home,  _ you’re _ home,” he stressed, grabbing Atsushi by his shoulders. 

Atsushi giggled as he circled Imai before hugging him again. With his chin on Imai’s shoulder, he said, “We don’t have to go on shore if you don’t want to.”

“We… You know how busy the port is. What if someone sees us?” Imai worried. “Or what if we get recognised?”

“We can always feign ignorance, or just ignore them,” Atsushi suggested. “You’re good at making those expressions that keep people away.” Imai frowned, giving Atsushi a reproachful glare. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Atsushi chuckled, swimming towards the surface with Imai in his arms.

“I'm serious here,” Imai huffed, sliding out of Atsushi's grasp to swim next to him.

“And I  _ am _ taking you seriously,” Atsushi assured with a smile as he spun and shifted to swim face to face with Imai, under him. Reaching up, he held Imai's face in his hands and gave him a peck on the lips. “It'll be fine.”

“I hope you're right,” Imai muttered.

Casting his eyes ahead, Imai broke the surface and grabbed the side of the boat. He pulled himself up and over the gunwale, tumbling into the boat with a grunt. As he sat up, Imai heard the water break and Atsushi leapt out of the water. Imai did not have time to react before Atsushi fell into his arms, opalescent robes fluttering and long hair flying all over the place.

Glad as he was to be breathing regular air again, Imai was winded by the impact and he lay on the deck, panting as he savoured the sea breeze. He barely had the chance to catch his breath before he was smothered by Atsushi pressing his lips to his own, initiating a slow kiss. With Atsushi sucking on his lip, Imai grunted and shifted, rolling over to pin Atsushi under him.

Breaking the kiss, Imai asked, “Don’t you want to see what the kid brought with him first?”

“Wasn’t he empty-handed?” Atsushi mumbled, looking slightly flushed as he blinked slowly.

“He came floating on this small… crate thing,” Imai replied as he gently brushed stray strands of hair out of Atsushi’s face.

“Is it apples?” Atsushi grinned.

“No.” Imai chuckled as Atsushi’s grin faded slightly. “But I think you’d like what’s in it.”

“Oh, really?” Atsushi challenged, raising a brow in intrigue.

“Yes, really."

“Mm…” Atsushi glanced towards their living space and then turned his attention back to Imai, contemplating as he traced random lines on the exposed skin of Imai’s chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Imai asked.

“About what I want to do more,” Atsushi replied, beaming at Imai with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “But I’ll see what he brought first.”

Imai let out a short laugh and moved away to let Atsushi get up. As he stood up as well, Imai undid his hair and ran his fingers through it, working out the tangles that bunched up while he had been going in and out of the water. When he woke up in this form, Imai thought that his hair would be a little less frizzy but it turned out that it was just the way his hair was. At least it ended up in nicer waves that it ever did previously.

Following Atsushi indoors, Imai bunched his hair together and tied it up again. With the both of them inside, Imai pulled the sliding door shut while Atsushi went towards their cushion pile.

Spotting the bowl, Atsushi asked, “Were you eating?”

“Hm?” Imai approached the low table and smacked a palm to his forehead. “Argh, I forgot about that. Hand it over, please. No, the kid ate”

“Ah, where's he now?” Atsushi's voice turned hushed.

“Should be in the guest room,” Imai replied, jerking his head in the direction of the room's door as he took the bowl and spoon from Atsushi.“That is, assuming he didn't wander around and get himself stuck somewhere."

“I’m sure you’ve warned him against it enough,” Atsushi chuckled.

Turning his attention to the crate on the table, Atsushi saw that it was open but the lid was still there, covering the top. While Imai washed the cutlery in the sink behind the workbench, he heard the heavy scrape of Atsushi shifting the crate towards him. The lid came off with a soft clatter and a grunt of surprise came out of Atsushi.

“This looks like…”

“Yeah,” Imai agreed, wiping his hands on a nearby towel before returning to Atsushi's side.

“No way…” Atsushi breathed. He took the chicken sculpture out of the box and put it on the table, mouth agape as he stared at it.

“Strange, isn't it?” Imai remarked, sitting down next to Atsushi on the carpet. He put a hand down on the space behind Atsushi and leaned in as he watched Atsushi marvel at the chicken. “Doesn't it look just like-”

“Bonnie,” Atsushi whispered, smiling softly as he cradled the sculpture in his arms. Despite his smile, Atsushi's eyes shone with melancholic nostalgia as he continued admiring it. “Who made this?” he asked.

“Damned if I know,” Imai muttered. “Kid didn't know why this would be on his boat either. Pretty sure that his captain intended to smuggle something in it though.”

“Nooo,” Atsushi moaned, tucking the sculpture under his arm as he darted away, scandalised by the thought of it.

“It's the only explanation for something this delicate to exist on a fishing boat,” Imai shrugged. “Regardless, it's yours now.”

“ _ Ours _ .”

“Same difference,” Imai muttered. “Where do you want to keep it?”

Atsushi turned around, meeting Imai’s eyes before looking at the shelves behind them. “We’re out of space there, aren’t we?”

“Hm…” Imai stood back up and scanned the shelves. “There  _ is _ space but not for something of this size.”

“The top shelves?”

“Not a good idea though,” Imai muttered, sniffing and pinching his nose as he considered it. “Moving stuff from the lower shelves for it isn’t too good either. What if someone bumps into the shelf? Or if the waves get rough enough to topple things over?”

“So… a place where it can’t fall from,” Atsushi concluded.

“And a place where no one will accidentally kick it,” Imai added.

“We could leave it in the crate and put it in our bedroom,” Atsushi suggested.

“Well… maybe…”

“Either by the dresser or the chest.”

Imai hummed. “Perhaps,” he nodded. Stretching a hand out to Atsushi, he said, “Let’s sort that out and head to bed then.”

Atsushi took hold of his hand, but instead of getting up, he pulled Imai back down into the cushion pile with him. “We can deal with it tomorrow,” he muttered, hugging Imai and burying his face in Imai’s robes.

“We still need to go to bed though,” Imai retorted.

“We can stay here,” Atsushi insisted, his voice muffled.

“And we have a guest who might come out at any time,” Imai reminded. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to avoid him?”

“It’ll be alright as long as you’re here, right?”

Imai pursed his lips. Atsushi was not wrong but… “Wouldn’t you rather privacy?” he sighed, trying to discourage the notion of sleeping in the living area.

“But it’s been so long since we last slept in front of the fire,” Atsushi whined. “I’ve been waiting and waiting but someone new always shows up.”

Again, Atsushi was right. Drifters have been showing up one after another, and that other guy had been sticking around for quite a bit as well. Peace and quiet seemed elusive these days.

Imai rolled onto his back, letting Atsushi lie on him. Sinking into the cushions, he sighed. “You're really fine with letting him see you?” Imai asked.

“You're here,” Atsushi muttered, his voice growing small.

“And if I wake up before you and leave?”

“You won't. You've never woken before me anyway,” Atsushi teased.

Imai grumbled as he felt Atsushi weighing down on him, body growing lax as sleep began to claim him. “You rarely fall asleep this quickly,” Imai remarked quietly.

“You're here… and… just like old times,” Atsushi yawned.

“Just like old times, huh,” Imai echoed as he stroked Atsushi's hair.

Breathing deep, Atsushi hummed softly in agreement before falling asleep without another word. Imai chuckled, amused by how Atsushi was already fast asleep as he held him in his arms and closed his eyes, willing himself to cast his worries aside and sleep as well.


	2. 2

Sunlight hit his face and he forced his eyes to squint against the glare as he cracked them open. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he took in a deep breath and sat up, wondering what time it was. From where he lay in the hammock, it seemed like the sun had just risen not too long ago. It hung low over the horizon of the sparkling sea, aiming its rays straight through the porthole and into his face.

Grunting and groaning, he rolled out of the hammock and put his bare feet on the floor with a soft thump. Where were his trusty boots? Oh, right, he lost them while kicking around in the sea yesterday. He felt a sudden pang of loss. Where was he going to find another pair now? He peered out of the porthole, hoping to see land somewhere out there, but it was just an endless stretch of ocean. It then occurred to him that he never asked where this boat was headed.

As his mind began to replay last night’s events, he paced around in the room with his ears pricked for sounds of activity outside the door. But all was silent. He began to wonder how much of last night was conjured up by his mind. Everything appeared terribly unrealistic and horribly improbable. Well, he _was_ fatigued yesterday. Exhaustion might have impaired his perception. He felt fresh now though. If things truly were as they were last night… then grandaunt’s stories may not have merely been tall tales for children after all.

First things first, he needed to get out of this room and look around again. With quiet footsteps, he went to the door and pushed open with a soft click.

The outside was just as he recalled. Perhaps his mind was not as unreliable as he thought it to be. The mess of random trinkets on the shelves was still as haphazard as he remembered them and the stone fireplace was still there, although the pot of soup has been taken off the fire.

While most things remained the same, there were other slight changes in the room too; the crate that he drifted here on was no longer on the low table in front of the fire; the workbench on the other end of the room, next to where the entrance was, had been put away; and the curtains that hung over the entryway were now gone, or perhaps hidden behind the wooden panel that replaced the way out.

Humming to himself, he began to wonder what there was for him to do while Hisashi's repeated warnings of ‘do not touch anything’ echoed through his mind. Just as he was about to take a step away from his room door, the door on the adjacent wall to his right clicked open. He was expecting to see Hisashi or the unnerving man but instead, it was someone else.

Judging from the way this man widened his eyes for a fraction of a second, it appeared as if he was not expecting to see him either. But almost immediately, the man's surprise disappeared and his slim angled brows furrowed into a hostile glare.

Staring back, he took in the strong yet elegant features on the man’s face and the iridescent robes, a shade of white which contrasted Hisashi's ashy black, that hung on his broad shoulders. The man seemed to notice his attention wandering and his jaw tensed, a warning flashing in his eyes as his glare intensified. He did not know what he did to agitate this person that much but he stepped back, hand against the door behind him as he maintained wary eye contact with the man.

Keeping his eyes on him, the man slowly stepped through the threshold and made his way towards the pile of cushions. With careful, deliberate movements, the man crouched down into the pile and continued staring at him even as he moved to lie down.

A soft groan came from the pile of cushions and a barely audible whisper asked, “What are you doing?”

The man did not move, save for the slight twitch in his brows as his hostile furrow turned into an expression of discomfort. A concerned hum sounded, followed by a grunt as an arm curled around the man, easing him into an embrace while Hisashi sat up, appearing from the pile of cushions to look in his direction.

Hisashi frowned, upset. “What is it?”

“Um…” He did not know what to say. “Bathroom…?”

“The other door, downstairs, first door to your right,” Hisashi answered curtly before dropping back down into the soft pile. “If you’re bored, you can slide that door to the left and go outside and fish,” he added, slurring slightly.

“Um, yes, sir,” he answered quickly and proceeded to open the other door.

Before he shut the door behind him, he heard Hisashi sigh and mutter, “This is exactly why I said we should’ve slept in our room.”

 

* * *

 

 As much as Imai wanted to continue sleeping, with Atsushi's frazzled energy clinging to him, he could barely get himself back into the mood for it. Instead, he headed up into the wheelhouse and changed the direction they sailed in, setting the course to head back to his hometown. Imai did not fancy the idea of going back, but the faster they dropped the boy off, the better it was for all of them.

Swinging out the side of the wheelhouse, Imai climbed up to the top of their boat, where Atsushi folded the sails close. They did not need the wind to steer them off course. Knowing the currents now, they could follow it and sail along quickly for a day or so before Imai had to deliberately steer them out of the current and towards the port.

Imai dropped to down to a knee next to Atsushi, helping him to secure the sails to their beams before loosening the crank at the base of the main beam to let it lie flat on the boat. As he moved, he could tell that Atsushi was in a slightly better mood. He did like being up here since no one else could see how their vessel actually looked, which, by extension, meant that no one could see them up here. Or perhaps it was the notion of heading back to the place where they spent a good number of decades together that excited Atsushi. He did seem to light up when Imai mentioned the possibility of it last night, Imai thought glumly.

Once done with the manual work, Imai stood up and held a hand out to Atsushi, who took it without question. “Breakfast?” Imai asked.

“Do we dine with the kid?” Atsushi asked back, using the moniker Imai adopted to refer to their guest.

“If he wants to,” Imai replied, steadying Atsushi as he descended back into the wheelhouse. Not that it was necessary.

Atsushi dropped down effortlessly and Imai followed. Putting an arm around Imai’s hips, Atsushi leaned against him and took a moment to look out the window with Imai next to him.

“How much do you think things have changed since…?” Atsushi mused softly.

Imai rubbed circles on the small of Atsushi's back, knowing that he went quiet thinking about their last day back there. “I don't really want to know,” Imai mumbled and added, “we don't have to know.”

Atsushi had a faraway look on his face as Imai steered him away from the window and towards the stairs. Hand in hand, they descended the stairs and returned to the living area. Imai did not see their guest in the room, but nevertheless, Atsushi's grip tightened upon entry. Looking around, Imai noticed the shutter for main entrance was open. He must have gone outside then.

With Atsushi sticking close to him, Imai headed for the sea green curtains that flitted in the breeze and stepped through the threshold. There, on the deck, he found their guest shifting from foot to foot as he stared, mouth agape, at the superstructure behind Imai and Atsushi. Or perhaps, it was the lack of that stunned the boy so.

“Do you want to eat?” Imai asked curtly. “There's only stew though.”

“Why’s the vessel so small?” the boy asked.

Imai turned around and glanced at the low, single-storey, structure that supposedly housed their living area, the lower deck where the store, their bedroom, and bathroom were, and the upper deck where the wheelhouse was. The structure definitely did not look like it contained that much space inside. After all, their vessel looked just like those small fishing boats that nomadic seafarers lived in, perhaps just a little wider.

Facing the boy again, Imai shrugged and replied, “It just is. Do you want to eat or not?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy hastily replied.

Atsushi raised a brow at Imai. _Sir?_

“Ignore that,” Imai muttered steering Atsushi back indoors with him. Beckoning the boy with a sharp jerk of his head, Imai called, “Get back in here then.”

They re-entered the living area, hurried footsteps following behind as Atsushi went to the cutlery and crockery corner to bring out the utensils while Imai put the pot back over the fire. Standing to one side, Imai watched the kid darting in and out of the threshold with utter disbelief on his face while he waited for the pot’s contents to heat up. Well, at least the kid would not be bothering Atsushi as long as he was preoccupied with the illusion.

Soon enough, the broth started heating up enough to make the lid dance with noisy clanging. Shifting it away from the heat of the flames, Imai carefully lifted the lid and took the bowls that Atsushi handed to him. Imai served out three portions, deliberately adding more shellfish into the one meant for Atsushi while Atsushi himself rummaged through the cushion pile looking for their usual sitting cushions.

Just as Imai set the bowls down on the table, the kid finally stopped his gawking and approached them. When he sat down, Atsushi automatically shifted towards the opposite end of the small table, pressing close to Imai as he tried to figure out which bowl was his. Distributing the bowls, Imai kept an eye on Atsushi, concerned, but all he did was hold his bowl in his hands and sip quietly while looking everywhere but the kid.

“Tuck in,” Imai said to the boy who had been stiffly staring at the bowl of stew in front of him.

From the way the boy nodded jerkily, it was clear that he was just as nervous as Atsushi was uneasy. The moment he actually did start eating though, the boy instantly smiled again.

“You really like that, huh?” Imai remarked. He felt Atsushi shift to glance at the boy’s expression.

The boy nodded. “It really is so much better than what I've had,” he gushed, “but don't tell my grandaunt that. She'd be heartbroken.”

Curiosity piqued by the mention of a ‘grandaunt’, Atsushi raised his brows at Imai. Imai shrugged and was about to shift the conversation but Atsushi spoke. “Are you close with that… grandaunt of yours?” he asked quietly.

The boy appeared startled that Atsushi spoke to him. Flustering for a moment, he quickly swallowed the mouthful of food he was chewing on and answered, “Yes, sir. But that was when I was a child, sir.”

“What happened?” Atsushi probed, his tone nonchalant.

Imai frowned and gave him a sharp look. Atsushi simply stuck his lower lip out and gave him an innocent shrug. What was Atsushi getting at?

With downcast eyes fixated on his food as he poked around with his spoon, the boy seemed reluctant to answer. But his silence was short lived and he began to speak again. “Um… She was from my father's side of the family and my parents, uh… they fell out some time ago… so…”

Atsushi hummed, appearing nonchalant as he picked out a piece of shellfish from his bowl and dropped it into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing, he asked, “I don't suppose you know her name?”

Imai frowned harder at Atsushi, growing increasingly uncomfortable at the thought of confirming any possible relation he might have, however distant, with the boy. He long ago decided that he did not want to re-establish ties with anyone they used to know, but Atsushi obviously begged to differ. Granted, Imai never his decision to Atsushi. There never seemed to be a need to. He never thought that there might have been any chance of something like this happening after all. Not when the ocean was as vast as it is.

Thankfully, the boy replied, “Um, no… I only ever called her ‘grandaunt’.”

Atsushi glanced at Imai with a puzzled expression. He probably felt Imai letting go of his tension when that quiet sigh of relief escaped his lips. Imai met his curious glance and subtly shook his head, dissuading Atsushi from asking anything for now. Almost immediately, Imai could sense Atsushi's curiosity turn into worry.

“Later,” Imai promised under his breath, so softly that it was only loud enough for Atsushi to hear. He hoped it was sufficient to alleviate Atsushi's unease for now.

Hearing the soft scrape of metal against wood, Imai looked up in the boy's direction and saw that his bowl was empty.

“Thank you for the meal,” muttered the boy as he put the wooden bowl and steel spoon down on the table.

Imai nodded, acknowledging him. Leaning forward, he beckoned the boy closer and said, “Look, there isn't going to be much for you to do around here, aside from fishing and cleaning, but I'd rather you not touch anything by accident, so… Maybe just fish and see if you can catch anything to add into the stew.”

The boy nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. I'll do my best.”

“No pressure though,” Imai advised. “We’ll be just fine even if nothing bites. It happens.”

The boy nodded again. He seemed eager to please.

“And we're going to drop you off at the beach where the cottage is but it'll take a couple of days or so before we arrive-”

“That quick!?” exclaimed the boy. “It took us three months to-”

“Just take my word for it and don’t worry about making sense of it,” Imai cut in, annoyed. “That's just how things are.”

The boy immediately settled down and nodded mutely. “But… you know where I come from?”

“Main island in a cluster with the beach and cottage to the east outside the city, right?”

The boy nodded.

“And to the west of the city is a stretch of cliffs, right?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy nodded again. “Lover's Peak.”

Imai stared at him. “No, it's Deadman’s Drop.”

“That was the old name, sir,” the boy countered. “Though kids still try to spook each other out with it.”

“ _Lover’s Peak_?” Imai muttered incredulously. “Why did they change the name?”

“It’s a local legend, sir,” the boy replied, squinting as he stared out of the corner of his eyes while trying to recall the information. “I think it’s based on an incident of two lovers jumping to their death? A suicide pact? Or was it one half of the couple jumping after the other died before the other? I’m not too sure…”

Imai turned sharply to look at Atsushi but his eyes quickly darted away and he started to busy himself with picking at the scraps in his bowl. “Was that you?” he hissed.

“Nope,” Atsushi muttered, head bowed with his hair covering whatever expression he might have been making.

“Atsushi,” Imai called. But he was being ignored. Imai frowned, upset at Atsushi’s refusal to respond.

Sighing and gritting his teeth, Imai turned his attention back to the boy and gave his dishevelled appearance a once-over. Imai noticed that for some reason, he looked scared. Imai sighed again. “You… Just leave the bowl there, I’m going to get you a change of clothes,” he muttered, leaving his seat. Perhaps Atsushi will stop ignoring him and follow him downstairs if he left.

Sure enough, Atsushi hurriedly put his bowl on the table and got up too. As Imai walked to the stairs, he felt Atsushi grab his robes and bunch up a fistful in his hand, tugging lightly. Opening the door, Imai took a step back and reached behind to take hold of Atsushi’s wrist. Imai made Atsushi walk in front of him and then put a hand on Atsushi’s back, ushering him in before closing the door behind him. Atsushi seemed a tad bit resistant as Imai continued walking him down the stairs, as if apprehensive of something.

“Atsushi,” Imai muttered. Immediately, he felt Atsushi flinch. Dismayed as Imai was, he continued, “you never said what you did after I died.”

“Mm,” Atsushi said. It was barely a word but he said nothing else.

Letting Atsushi go, Imai headed for the storeroom. Going in, he asked Atsushi, “What did you do on that day?”

“Nothing,” Atsushi replied, his voice barely a whisper. He remained outside while Imai began looking around for spare clothes.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Imai commented, getting down on one knee and opening one of their clothes chests. He waited for an answer as he rummaged around, but Atsushi remained silent.

“Atsushi,” Imai called. “You still there?”

“Mm.”

Imai looked up from the chest and turned to the entrance to the storeroom where Atsushi stood staring at the floor sullenly as he fidgeted with his sleeves. He called again, “Atsushi.” He looked up at Imai and their eyes met for a moment. It was then when he took the chance to ask, “What did you do?”

“Does it matter?” Atsushi retorted, looking elsewhere again.

“It caused a name change for a landmark where we lived,” Imai replied. “So, yes, it matters.”

“It’s all past, isn’t it,” Atsushi argued softly. “We can’t even be sure that I caused it.”

“You’re acting like it is,” Imai pointed out.

Atsushi shifted from one foot to the other and began to walk away. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Imai sighed and stood up, walking briskly to catch up to Atsushi. “If it’s all past and it doesn’t matter as you said, why can’t you just tell me?” he questioned.

Atsushi turned around sharply, glaring at Imai angrily and stopping him in his tracks. “Why won’t you drop it?” he seethed.

Furrowing his brows, Imai’s distress started showing on his face and Imai knew he was losing his grip on his composure. “Atsushi,” he breathed, “just what did you do at the cliff?”

Imai could see Atsushi biting his lower lip, fighting to stop it from trembling as he seemed to squint his eyes ever so slightly. He did not speak though.

Trepidation began to roil in his gut and Imai swallowed as if trying to send his discomfort away. “Atsushi, please don’t tell me you j-”

“I’m not saying anything, am I?” Atsushi hissed. He blinked. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Imai reached his arms out to him, stepping closer as he shook his head and said, “Atsushi, why would you-”

“Don’t come closer,” Atsushi clipped, stepping back.

Atsushi's rejection felt like a blow to Imai and a sharp pain stabbed through his chest, making him wince. “Atsushi, don’t push me away-”

“You’re judging me, aren’t you?” Atsushi scowled. Another tear rolled down his other cheek. “ _Don’t jump, you should never resort to such things_ ,” he whispered in a mocking tone.

“Atsushi, I…” Not knowing how to respond to Atsushi’s accusations, Imai was at a loss for words. “Atsushi, I never wanted you to join me in death-”

“You don’t understand…” Atsushi croaked and faltered, his face crumbling as more tears tumbled down his cheeks. Taking in a deep breath, his emotions seemed to translate into anger as he wailed and sobbed, “You don’t know how it feels- to lose- the love of your life.” Atsushi’s words diminished into a whimper at the end as he continued glaring at Imai with gritted teeth and a face crumpled up in grief despite Imai standing right in front of him.

Woe from being the source of Atsushi’s pain gnawed at Imai. He had tried to prevent this, to make Atsushi leave before his previous life expired. He had even hoped that Atsushi would tire of him, but it was all futile. He still had to hurt Atsushi in the end.

“You’re right,” Imai whispered as he took a step forward, hoping that Atsushi will let him go closer. “You’re right, I don’t know anything about-”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” Atsushi lamented, cutting Imai off. Before Imai could speak again, a fresh wave of anguish seemed to come over Atsushi as he scrunched up his face and cried, “You never said goodbye."

Without another word, Atsushi turned away and ran into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Imai chased after him. Grabbing the door lever, Imai expected it to press down but it stayed firm, unyielding. Atsushi locked the door on him.

“Atsushi, let me in!” Imai yelled as a fresh spear of pain stabbed his chest.

“I’m not talking to you,” came Atsushi's muffled voice.

“Unlock the door,” Imai pleaded. “Atsushi, please. Don't do this.”

“Go away.”

“Atsushi, don't shut me out like that, please.”

Atsushi did not reply.

“Atsushi, come on…” Imai called again, his voice losing its edge as despair weighed heavy in his gut.

Atsushi only continued to ignore Imai and desolation ate his chest hollow as he stared at the closed door in silence. What was he to do now?

 

* * *

 

With a foot propped up against the gunwale, he steadied himself and leaned back, pulling as hard as he could against whatever was on the other end of the rod. His arms burned from the strain but adrenaline pumped through him, giving him that extra burst he needed to pull his catch in. Raising the rod up as he cranked the reel. The fish shot out of the water, its scales glistening brightly in the sunlight. He swung the rod and flung the fish onto the deck of the boat with a thump. The fish, as long as his arm, flailed around on the deck and he grinned triumphantly. It was his first bite and he had already made it a successful catch.

Bending down, he removed the hook from the fish and as he got up, a shadow fell over him from behind. Taken by surprise, he snapped around to find a rather listless looking Hisashi standing behind him.

Hisashi looked at the fish and muttered, “Not bad.”

“Thanks!” he grinned as he picked the fish up in his arms. “Where should I put it, sir?”

“I don't have a bucket big enough for this,” Hisashi frowned. He looked around half-heartedly, scratching the back of his head as he searched for something he could use. Spotting a crate, Hisashi dragged it over to him. “Use this.”

“Yes, sir.” He dropped the fish in. Hisashi suddenly grabbed his forearm and he yelped in surprise.

“Calm down, I'm not doing anything,” Hisashi grumbled, putting his forearm against his own as if comparing them. “Almost the same…” Hisashi hummed.

“Eh?”

Hisashi let go of his forearm and walked away, saying, “Keep fishing.”

“Uhm… okay,” he muttered as he watched Hisashi disappear into the boat again, confused by what that was about.

Picking up the fishing rod from the ground, he cast his line back out and put the small wooden stool, that had toppled over in his earlier frenzy, back upright. He sat down and held onto the rod, waiting patiently for the next bite. By the time Hisashi came back though, there has not been even the slightest tug on the line.

Hisashi dropped a pair of wooden sandals on the floor next to him and said, “Here, see if it fits.”

Carefully, he propped the rod up against the gunwale in front of him and stood up, slipping his feet onto the sandals which fit perfectly. Smiling, he looked up at Hisashi and beamed, “Thank you!”

Waving a hand dismissively, Hisashi barely showed any expression as he said, “No need. I’ve left a change of clothes in the room as well. Let me know if it doesn’t fit.”

“Thank you very much, sir!” he repeated again.

Hisashi merely grunted and unfolded a wooden chair to sit on the deck as well. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and sighed audibly. “Just don’t mind me,” Hisashi muttered.

Finding it odd that Hisashi was settling down on the deck alone, he asked, “Where’s the other…?”

“In our room,’ Hisashi answered curtly without moving.

“Oh.”

An uncomfortable silence began to stretch out between the two of them as they sat on the deck minding their own business. He had hoped that a fish or something would snag on the line and give him something else aside from Hisashi’s sighs to focus on, but nothing was happening. It felt like his luck with fishing had run out after that first big catch.

On impulse, he asked, “Are you two close?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you both seem close,” he mumbled, “I just wondered…”

Hisashi seemed to pause and consider his words before answering, “Yes.”

“How long have you known each other for?”

There was another long pause. “Very long.”

“What was he like when you first met?”

“Why do you ask?” Hisashi asked back, side-eying him with suspicion.

“Uhm, I was just wondering because he seemed rather… hostile.”

Hisashi laughed, a rather unexpected deed considering how gloomy he seemed. “Hostile… More like… guarded,” he muttered in response. “He just… doesn’t like strangers.”

“Oh.”

“Though… Thinking about it, I wouldn’t say he was all that unfriendly in the beginning,” Hisashi remarked, scratching his chin as he looked to the sky. “Just… secretive.”

“You clearly know him well,” he commented.

“Hm, I don’t know about that,” Hisashi muttered, his voice turning soft. “I wish I knew him well enough to know what to do.”

“Did something happen?”

“… I don’t know,” Hisashi frowned. “I don’t know what I did but he’s upset.”

“Was it something I said?”

“No- Well… Technically, yes, but it’s got nothing to do with that.”

“So… he’s not upset because of me?”

“No.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“But he’s upset with me.”

“Ah.”

“And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” Hisashi sighed. “He won’t even talk to me.”

“Just apologise,” he shrugged.

“But I didn’t do anything!” Hisashi exclaimed, exasperated. “Why should I apologise for something I didn’t do?!”

“You did  _something_ though,” he emphasised.

Hisashi paused. “Okay, fine. But even if I did, it wasn’t intentional.”

“It still upsets him, right?”

“Mmh… well…”

“Right?”

Hisashi dragged his hands down his face and groaned in frustration. He could see Hisashi resisting the idea of apologising.

“I mean, if you don’t want to apologise, it’s fine too,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just a matter of whether this means enough for you to want to swallow your pride-”

“Why would you know all this?” Hisashi cut in, narrowing his eyes at him.

“I have an older sister who used to read her romance novels to me as bedtime stories,” he replied. “Turns out, as sappy as they were, there’s been rather useful information in there.”

Hisashi huffed in response. Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees and propped his chin up in a hand. With a disgruntled glare at the horizon, Hisashi asked, “And if he refuses to talk to me? He locked me out of the room, you know.”

“Wait it out,” he shrugged. “He can’t stay in there forever.”

“Hmph… you got a point.”

He noticed that Hisashi did not move from his spot though. “Aren’t you… going to talk to him?”

“Don’t rush me,” Hisashi snapped. “Can’t I catch a break?”

“O… kay…”

 

* * *

 

 Imai could only stand being on the deck for a short while more before he left and came back indoors, annoyed by the kid’s endless questions. Instead of going straight to the room, Imai ended up pacing to and fro outside the closed door, hoping that Atsushi would open the door while he stalled for time. It felt like that was never going to happen though. Putting his hands in his face, Imai sighed and groaned again. Why did it have to be so hard?

Imai stood in front of the door, raised his fist, and paused. Maybe he should call Atsushi first. Taking in a deep breath, Imai squeezed his eyes shut and called, “Atsushi?”

He held his breath in apprehension as he waited for the response which he suspected would never come. He was right. He sighed heavily. How was he supposed to get Atsushi to talk to him if he refuses to respond?

“Atsushi, won’t you open the door?” Imai called again.

Atsushi did not respond.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Imai sighed. He felt like he was talking to the wall. Atsushi’s silence worried him though.

Imai pressed his ear against the wooden door, trying to listen for signs of movement within the room. Again, he heard nothing. He folded his arms and frowned, tapping his fingers against his forearm as he tried to decide on his next course of action. Should he continue waiting until he hears something from Atsushi or should he barge right in? If Atsushi was just ignoring him on purpose and he broke the door down, Atsushi would get even angrier, wouldn’t he? But if something happened to Atsushi instead… He would much rather Atsushi be angry with him than risk anything.

“Atsushi?” Imai called again, rapping his fist on the door. “Atsushi, if you’re not going to say anything I’m coming in whether you like it or not.”

The silence dragged on and Imai only grew increasingly worried and anxious. He pursed his lips and swallowed, brows furrowing as he willed himself to wait a little longer. Perhaps Atsushi just needed more time before he decides to respond. While waiting Imai clenched and released his fists, nails digging into his palms.

Unable to wait any longer, Imai put his hand on the door lever and pushed hard. He expected to the door to budge, but he did not expect that it would swing open and slam into the wall. Losing his balance, Imai tumbled to the floor in a heap and heard the rustle of frantic movement from the bed. Imai snapped his head up and found Atsushi curled up defensively in a corner with the sheets in a mess around him.

“Atsushi?”

Very slowly, Atsushi turned and peeked out over his arms in Imai’s direction, eyes wide with fear. Upon seeing Imai, his seemed to relax a little as he muttered, “Hisashi?”

Nodding, Imai stood up and dashed towards Atsushi, who launched himself into Imai’s outstretched arms. Imai hugged Atsushi tight, planting kisses all over his head as he buried his face in Atsushi’s hair and muttered “I’m sorry” endlessly.

“I thought it was someone else,” Atsushi breathed, his voice taut with overwhelming relief.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Imai whispered. “I got worried when you weren’t responding-”

“I… I fell asleep…,” Atsushi muttered sheepishly, “while I was waiting for you.”

Imai chuckled softly, relieved that Atsushi actually wanted him to come back and that nothing bad happened to him. “I'm sorry I took so long then,” he said, stroking Atsushi’s hair. “Didn't know you wanted me to come in.”

Atsushi pulled back a little before headbutting Imai in his stomach and squeezing Imai tight again. “Doesn't mean I'm no longer angry with you for that,” he huffed.

“For what?”

Atsushi smacked his fists into Imai's back, making him grunt from the impact. “For not saying goodbye,” Atsushi muttered softly.

“Why would I say that if I'm not going anywhere?” Imai countered, only to feel Atsushi smacking him harder. “Hey! I'm sorry, alright!?”

“Insincere,” Atsushi accused, swinging his fist again.

“Ow! Stop hitting me!” Imai hissed.

Atsushi looked up at Imai and frowned, tired eyes glistening with tears, “Apologise!” he demanded.

Holding Atsushi's face in his hands, Imai looked into his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I'm sorry.”

“For?” Atsushi pushed, narrowing his eyes.

“For… making you cry,” Imai replied, brushing his thumbs over Atsushi's tear-stained cheeks. “But not for not saying goodbye. It's not like I ever intended to leave on purpose.”

Atsushi stuck out his lower lip, pouting as he continued staring at Imai in silence. “I’ll accept that on two conditions,” he said.

“What are they?”

“One, don’t ever try and make me leave again.”

“When did I ever do that?!”

Atsushi gave Imai a pointed look. He knew.

Imai winced and looked away. “I just wanted what’s best-”

“I’ll decide that for myself,” said Atsushi firmly.

“Okay, okay, fine,” Imai sighed, relenting. “I won’t do that again,” he promised. “What’s the other condition?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Imai answered without hesitation. “Not if I can help it.”

Atsushi’s eyes crinkled into a smile as he heard Imai’s words. Pulling Imai down towards him, Atsushi pressed their lips together and leaned back, suddenly dropping his weight into Imai’s arms. Imai hastily shifted an arm lower, wrapping it around Atsushi’s waist to support him and slow his descent onto the bed.

With his legs on either side of Atsushi, Imai broke the kiss and huffed, “One day you’re really going to hit your head against the wall.”

“That’ll never happen,” Atsushi declared as he wrapped his legs around Imai’s. “Not since I only do that when you’re with me,” he added, slipping his hands under Imai’s robes as he spoke.

“Are you seriously doing this now?” Imai asked incredulously, squirming from Atsushi’s light touches.

“I want you,” Atsushi purred, pulling Imai closer to his body.

“I get that, but let me at least close the door,” Imai muttered. His body was already beginning to react to Atsushi’s constant caresses. Smelling Atsushi’s scent, one he knew so well, and feeling the heat emanating from Atsushi at this proximity was not helping either. It took all his effort to resist pressing his face into Atsushi skin to taste him.

“It's fine,” Atsushi whispered into his ear. “You're here,” he cooed before sucking on Imai's earlobe.

Imai gasped, silently cursing how every sensation felt so blindingly vivid in this form. Tightening his embrace, Imai dropped lower and trailed kisses along Atsushi's jaw as he mumbled, “But we have a guest.”

“No reason for him to come down here, is there?” Atsushi reasoned, his words slurring.

“Bathroom,” Imai reminded before gently biting Atsushi on the side of his neck and sucking hard.

Atsushi moaned and arched his back as his legs clamped Imai's hips down against his own. “That's… in front…,” Atsushi breathed, struggling to remain coherent. “He doesn't have to pass… our room-!” His voice hitched when Imai moved his hips, grinding against Atsushi's erection with his.

Imai chuckled, enjoying the reactions that resulted from Atsushi’s sensitivity. “Ah, eager, aren't we?” he teased.

Grabbing the loose ends of both their waist belts, Atsushi pulled and undid the knots, letting their robes fall open. Not expecting it, Imai paused and looked down while Atsushi held onto the sashes. When Imai turned his attention back to Atsushi, he was biting their waist belts between his teeth. With the entangled swirls of prismatic black and smooth iridescent white trailing from his lips, Atsushi arched an eyebrow and gave Imai a suggestive wink.

“What are you thinking of?” Imai asked.

Atsushi shrugged but remained silent, smiling as he wiggled his brows again.

Putting a forearm down on the bed, Imai leaned to the side and gently took the sashes from Atsushi’s mouth, staring at them before looking at Atsushi again. “What _do_ you want me to do with them?” he asked.

“Anything you wish,” Atsushi purred, fingers caressing the side of Imai’s face. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Imai hummed, contemplating as he put his hand over Atsushi’s. Curling his fingers around Atsushi’s wrist, Imai straddled Atsushi’s body and brought both his hands above his head. As he wrapped the soft strips of fabric around Atsushi’s wrists, Imai muttered, “Tell me if it hurts.”

Atsushi simply hummed in acknowledgement, closing his eyes and nudging his cheek against Imai’s body as he relaxed.

Once Atsushi’s wrists were bound, Imai looped the sashes under and over the top rail of the bed’s headboard. Pulling, Atsushi’s arms and torso stretched taut towards the headboard. Atsushi glanced up at his restraints.

“Too tight?” Imai asked, concerned.

Atsushi pulled back a bit before nodding. “Better like this, I think.”

A lopsided smile tugged at Imai’s lips and he leaned down, giving Atsushi a quick peck on the lips before pushing Atsushi’s left leg up. Making haste, he tied the end of the white sash around and under Atsushi’s knee before doing the same with the black sash for his right. Even if Atsushi was agreeable to this, being restrained cannot be comfortable in any way.

Tightening the knots, Imai leaned back to look at his crude attempt at bondage. With both of his legs folded to his body, Atsushi’s nether regions were on full display for Imai. Making eye contact with Imai, Atsushi bit his lower lip and looked away as if suddenly embarrassed with the predicament that he let himself get put in. Atsushi tugged at his wrists and tried to shift but he only succeeded in lifting his legs higher.

Imai chuckled.

“Are you going to just sit there and stare at me?” Atsushi muttered indignantly.

Imai grinned.

“Hisashi!” Atsushi whined.

Imai’s grin grew wider. Sliding off the bed, he walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?!” Atsushi asked, his voice rising sharply in panic.

“Shh…,” Imai shushed. Turning back to Atsushi, he smiled as he closed the bedroom door and locked it. “I’m not giving anyone else the chance to see you like this,” he said softly as he walked back to Atsushi. _This is for my eyes only_.

Climbing back into the bed, Imai crouched over Atsushi, fingers running through his soft, long locks as he admired the sublime beauty of Atsushi relaxing in his embrace, so trusting, so desirous. How could he ever tire of him?

Atsushi’s tugging snapped Imai out of his reverie. Looking to his wrists, Imai asked, “Do you want them freed?”

Atsushi shook his head. “I think you need to tie tighter next time. It’s starting to come loose.”

“ _Next time_?”

Atsushi froze and met Imai’s incredulous gaze. “Hm?” he smiled innocently.

Imai shook his head and sighed. Putting a hand on the soft skin of Atsushi’s under thigh, Imai dragged his hand up and down, caressing Atsushi’s bare bottom as he chided, “We’re not even done here and you’re talking about _next time_.”

Atsushi sighed and curled his toes, squeezing tight as Imai closed his hand around his erection. But instead of stroking him, Imai dragged his hand down, pressing his palm over  Atsushi's scrotum before teasing his perineum and entrance with his fingers. Atsushi's breath hitched and he whined, jerking his body as he tried to coax Imai into doing more.

Again, Imai shifted his hand away, going back to caressing Atsushi's legs as Atsushi let out a devastated whine. “Hisashi,” he moaned, dragging out the last syllable of Imai's name.

Trailing kisses along Atsushi's legs, Imai chuckled. “It hasn't even been that long since our previous tryst.”

“Not as often as we used to,” Atsushi complained as Imai leaned forward between his legs, coming closer.

“Because we always have guests now,” Imai reasoned before putting his tongue on Atsushi's lower abdomen and giving him one long lick up to his nipple.

Imai felt Atsushi's body shudder under him as a blissful sigh escaped his lips. Flicking his tongue, Imai sucked on a nipple, teasing the other with his fingers as Atsushi moaned and squirmed. Atsushi clamped Imai's body between his knees and rocked his hips as he grinded against Imai.

The sudden jolt of pleasure that came from Atsushi's erection pressing against his own made Imai falter and gasp. With his face in the crook of Atsushi's neck, Imai parted his lips and nipped at Atsushi’s skin, biting, sucking, and bruising his skin as Atsushi continued crying out for more.

Reaching up, Imai held Atsushi's face in his hands, forcing Atsushi to look at him as he scrunched up his face and chided, “You greedy man.”

Atsushi whined and moaned incoherently, stretching his neck up to nuzzle against Imai and kiss him. Even as he growled with mild annoyance, Imai did not have the heart to reject Atsushi, not after all that earlier fuss. Imai kissed him back as slowly and tenderly as he could. Sucking on Atsushi's lips, Imai heard Atsushi's soft sighs of pleasure and felt Atsushi rubbing his legs against him sensually.

Releasing Atsushi's bruised lower lip, Imai held his face in his hands again and huffed, “Sometimes, I feel like I spoil you too much.”

Atsushi broke into an elated smile, giggling as he squeezed his eyes and said, “Spoil me more.”

“Demanding,” Imai scoffed, lightly bumping his forehead against Atsushi’s as Atsushi beamed at Imai.

Sitting up, Imai kept one hand on Atsushi’s face. He reached his fingers towards Atsushi’s mouth and slid them in as Atsushi parted his lips. Atsushi sucked on Imai’s fingers enthusiastically, moaning as his fingers curled and tickled the roof of his mouth.

Atsushi’s reaction made Imai smile and languidly, he slid his other hand down Atsushi’s body, lightly brushing over the sensitive skin along the side of his body and lower down past his hips to tease him more. Imai then wrapped his hand around Atsushi’s erection, putting his own together with Atsushi’s in his palm before he stroked them both in tandem. Humming low in delight, Imai heard Atsushi moan and watched him tug his arms, raising his legs higher and closer to his body again.

After a few strokes, Imai took his saliva-slicked fingers out of Atsushi’s mouth and brought them down towards Atsushi’s exposed entrance. Instead of putting them in, however, Imai pressed his fingertips to Atsushi’s opening and circled them around his rim, riling Atsushi up even more. As Imai kept teasing, Atsushi moaned his name while Imai made a ring with his middle finger and thumb before sliding the ring down to the base of Atsushi’s erection. Maintaining pressure, Imai pushed the fingers of his other hand into Atsushi, eliciting a long moan of ecstasy from him. With each thrust, Imai curled his fingers inside Atsushi and the added stimulation only made Atsushi cry for more.

Desperately, he cried, “I need… in me-!”

“Need what?” Imai hummed, pretending to not understand what Atsushi was getting at.

Atsushi could only moan incoherently in frustration, hitting his raised shin against Imai side as he thrashed from Imai pressing a thumb into his perineum.

Chuckling to himself, Imai conceded. As he adjusted his position, Imai removed his fingers from Atsushi and put his tip to Atsushi’s entrance. Feeling the heat of Imai against him, Atsushi sighed in rapt anticipation and moaned blissfully as Imai filled his insides with his heat.

Hooking Atsushi’s legs over his shoulders, Imai curled an arm around Atsushi’s waist to hold him again and with his middle finger and thumb still around Atsushi’s erection, Imai began to thrust his hips.

Gripping Imai tight with his legs, Atsushi's cries reached fever pitch as Imai rammed into him with abandon. Atsushi pressed his heels into Imai’s back and folded his arms, forcing Imai to bend over and come closer. Imai dropped to the side instead, burying his face in Atsushi’s skin as he listened to Atsushi’s fervent calls of his name reverberating in his chest.

Imai began moving his fingers along the length of Atsushi's erection again, making Atsushi arch his back and throw his head back. Bucking his hips, Atsushi thrashed as Imai thumbed his glans. Atsushi gritted his teeth and moaned, grunting and whining to the pleasure.

“Hisashi~!” Atsushi called, making an effort to enunciate the syllables.

“Hm?” Imai hummed, somewhat light-headed from the sensations and added pleasure of hearing Atsushi's erotic cries.

“I… I want… kiss,” Atsushi breathed, struggling to speak.

“Yeah yeah,” Imai slurred, chuckling softly as he nuzzled Atsushi's cheek before locking lips with him.

Atsushi whined, sighing happily as he pushed his tongue against Imai's and kissed him hungrily. He let his noises subside a little as they tongued, but once Imai started stroking his shaft again, Atsushi lost his composure and went back to moaning without restraint.

As he stroked and thrust in tandem, Imai pressed his forehead against Atsushi’s and closed his eyes, losing himself to the building tension of carnal energies in the pit of his stomach. As Atsushi’s cries grew rapturous, Imai, too, began to groan from the pleasure. Hugging Atsushi with his free arm, Imai thrust faster and deeper, pushing Atsushi and himself up and over the edge.

Atsushi’s insides contracted around Imai and Imai thrust deeper, cumming inside Atsushi as he clutched his body between his legs and filled the room with his cries of ecstasy. Planting soft kisses on Atsushi as they gradually came down from their high, Imai could feel the sticky residue of Atsushi’s ejaculation on their stomachs.

Reaching up, Imai languidly untied the sashes that held Atsushi’s legs up and Atsushi let his legs drop onto the bed, straightening them as he arched his back and stretched. With a soft smile on his face, Atsushi wrapped his legs around Imai and put his arms around his neck with his wrists still tied together.

“Hisashi.”

“Hm?” Imai paused and pushed himself up to look at Atsushi.

Atsushi pulled him back down and spoke into his ear. “You came in me without asking.”

“Ah, well… I meant to help you wash,” Imai muttered, embarrassed.

“So you planned to do this all along,” Atsushi hummed. “Yet you gave no warning.”

“It’s not like that!” Imai denied as he grew flustered. “I-”

Atsushi pressed their lips together, cutting Imai off. As soon as they broke apart though, Imai started trying to explain himself but Atsushi cut him off again, smiling as they kissed. Pausing again, Atsushi got his words in before Imai could speak.

“I’m not actually angry, you know?” Atsushi chuckled.

Imai made a grumbling noise as he hugged Atsushi and pressed his head to his shoulder. Nuzzling his hair, Imai gave Atsushi a kiss on the side of his head and sighed. He could not quite explain the contradicting mix of relief and anxiety that stayed stuck in his chest.

Imai could feel Atsushi's fingers fidgeting with his hair as Atsushi mumbled, “Hisashi?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something…”

“What is it?” Imai drew back and looked at Atsushi with concern in his eyes.

“I… Promise you won’t laugh?”

“What is it?” Imai repeated. He did not like the feeling that he was getting from this.

“Don’t let me fall asleep without you,” Atsushi requested, his voice growing small as his eyes darted away. “Like just now…”

“Why?” Imai asked, his eyes searching Atsushi’s face for answers. “I mean, sure, but why? What’s bothering you? You know I’ll always be nearby-”

“It’s not that,” Atsushi interrupted. “Not exactly…”

“Tell me,” Imai implored, caressing Atsushi’s cheek. “I’m listening.”

Atsushi glanced at him with glistening eyes before looking elsewhere again. “I… This is stupid,” he laughed at himself, a wry grin on his face as he grimaced. “If I doze off alone… I get these dreams,” Atsushi whispered, pausing as he glanced at Imai again. “They- You’re always there and…”

“Mhm?” Imai hummed, coaxing Atsushi to continue.

Atsushi frowned again, wincing as he met Imai’s eyes with a wary look. “You’re either throwing me out or forcing me to leave,” he finished, shrinking into the bed as he spoke.

Speechless, Imai froze and stared at Atsushi. “Do you actually believe that?”

“I hear it all the time,” Atsushi muttered, raising his arms over Imai’s head and tucking them to his chest. “I keep bracing for the moment when I’d hear it when I’m not asleep and I thought I might’ve finally pushed you to it just now when…” He choked on his words and went silent, staring at a corner of the room in despair.

Imai watched Atsushi quietly, combing his fingers through Atsushi’s hair as he tried to think of something to say. How could he not realise that Atsushi has been this troubled? Swallowing, he asked, “How long?”

“What?” Atsushi looked at Imai, apprehensive.

“How long have you felt like… this?”

“Ever since… that…” Atsushi’s voice faded away and he looked off again, breathing heavy as he fought for composure.

Imai sighed and pressed his lips to Atsushi’s forehead. Closing his eyes, he held Atsushi tight and asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’d say it’s stupid,” said Atsushi’s muffled voice.

“It is.”

Atsushi jerked, shoving his fists into Imai’s stomach. Groaning, Imai let Atsushi go and rolled onto his back.

“What’s that for?!” Imai moaned.

Atsushi rolled to his side, his back facing Imai as he remained silent, refusing to answer.

Hearing a loud sniff from Atsushi, Imai sighed and wrapped his arms around Atsushi. Well, the kid said apologising should work, right? Taking a deep breath, Imai put his face in Atsushi’s robes and muttered, “I’m sorry."

Atsushi sniffed again and curled in slightly, pushing his back into Imai.

“You know,” Imai muttered, tightening his embrace, “there was this saying that dreams just show you the opposite of what the future holds.”

“Hm,” Atsushi hummed quietly and sniffed again as his fingers slowly began to entwine with Imai’s.

“And didn’t I just say that I won’t leave you?” Imai reminded. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Atsushi folded his shoulders in and shifted, turning around to face Imai with his misty eyes. He gave Imai a long look before sliding closer to press against him. “Hisashi?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Imai froze. What was this for? “Um, okay.”

“I love you.”

Seized by paranoia, Imai grabbed Atsushi by his shoulders and pushed him away to look at him. “You-You're not leaving, are you?”

“N-No?” Atsushi stuttered in surprise. “Not unless you want-”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Imai answered quickly. Covering his face with a hand, he muttered to himself, “Thank goodness…”

Recovering from his surprise, Atsushi began to laugh. “I’m glad you feel like this.”

“Sadist,” Imai huffed.

“I’m just saying I love you,” Atsushi simpered, cupping Imai’s jaw in his still bound-together hands.

Preoccupied with the notion of his misunderstanding, Imai barely noticed as he continued ranting, “I can’t even consider what things would be like if you-”

Atsushi cut Imai off with a soft kiss on the lips, kissing him until he calmed down sufficiently. Breaking apart, Atsushi gazed at Imai as he continued caressing Imai with his fingers. “I’d be worried if you didn’t react as you did,” Atsushi mused quietly.

“You’re giving me a hell lot of worrying to do,” Imai muttered.

Smiling back, Atsushi nuzzled against Imai and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Imai grumbled, hugging Atsushi despite his frustration.

“Say it again,” Atsushi mumbled.

“What? Why?”

“It’s not often I hear it from you,” said Atsushi.

Giving in with a sigh, Imai muttered, “I love you.”

“Again,” Atsushi giggled.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you. How many more times do I have to do this?”

“Don’t you love me?” Atsushi asked, innocently looking up at Imai.

Huffing, Imai tightened his hold on Atsushi and rolled over again, pinning Atsushi under him as he smothered him in his embrace and whispered in his ear, “I love you.”

Squirming in delight, Atsushi hummed happily and entangled his legs with Imai’s. “Again,”  he swooned.

“I- Wait,” Imai paused and shifted, sliding his knee up. “I love you but are you seriously getting aroused from this?”

Atsushi hid his face in Imai’s robes and pressed his legs together. “It’s not intentional,” he whined.

Tutting, Imai slid a hand between Atsushi’s knees and slowly dragged it up between his thighs. “What am I to do with you?” he chided.

Atsushi bit his lower lip and arched his back, gasping softly as Imai caressed his inner thighs. A sensual sigh escaped his lips, “Hisashi…”

Looking into Atsushi’s half-lidded gaze, Imai kissed him and muttered, “How demanding.”

 

* * *

 

Washing his hands in the bathroom, he dabbed cool water all over his face and arms, bringing relief to his flushed, red skin. As far up north as they were supposed to be, he really should not have underestimated the heat of the afternoon sun. Peering at himself in the mirror, he prodded at his sore skin and sighed. He was bound to get a sunburn at this rate. Well, at least he managed to catch another fish while Hisashi was away. It was smaller than his first, but it was still a good catch.

He had intended to wait until Hisashi returned to the deck before leaving the fishing rod unattended and heading to the bathroom, but he could not wait much longer, and here he was. He just hoped that the rod would not be broken or missing by the time he went back up. Splashing water on his face once more, he wiped his wet hands on the sides of his trousers and exited the bathroom.

Just as he was about to ascend the stairs, a loud thud came from one of the doors further down the corridor. It was immediately followed by a bout of laughter. He paused and smiled. That sounded like good news.

Another thud reached his ears and then a click. A door on the left side opened up and Hisashi carefully stepped out with Atsushi who he carried in his arms. Hisashi spun around to close the door, robes swishing out behind him as he moved. When Hisashi turned towards the stairwell, in his direction, he froze.

He grinned at Hisashi. _Did it work_? he mouthed.

Hisashi frowned and jerked his head, signing at him to go back upstairs. Atsushi, who he previously thought to be asleep, stirred, adjusting his head which rested on Hisashi's shoulder. He whispered something to Hisashi, to which Hisashi appeared to dismiss. His answer satisfied Atsushi enough for him to relax again. Hisashi then turned his attention back to him, wordlessly telling him to go upstairs again with another jerk of his head. And he did.

As Hisashi came towards the bathroom, he went up the stairs and when he reached the first landing, he spun around and caught Hisashi’s eye, giving him two thumbs up with a wide grin on his face. Hisashi narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips thin as he gestured at him to leave Atsushi and him alone again.

Finally ceding to Hisashi’s repeated appeals, he turned to leave and as he did, he caught sight of Hisashi’s lips twitching, as if resisting the tug of a smile. With a smug smile on his face, he continued his way up the stairs. He could still hear their voices faintly drifting up from below though.

“What was that about?” asked the smooth baritone voice that belonged to Atsushi.

“Later,” came Hisashi’s usual curt reply.

“Later, later, later,” Atsushi droned. “It’s always later with you,” he complained, his voice fading softer as they entered the bathroom and the door clicked shut behind them.


	3. 3

_If you ever find yourself lost_  
_Adrift in unknown seas_  
_A wraith of a vessel may manifest  
And pick you up, if they please_

 _A gift will be required_  
_A penance or a fee_  
_To see if you are worth their trouble  
Or better suited as feed_

 _Perhaps they’ll take you home, or not_  
_Perhaps they make you stay_  
_Perhaps they’ll have you disappear  
And leave your bones by the bay_

 

He woke with a start to a spray of salty water hitting his face. He had fallen asleep on the deck while fishing and for some reason, the ramblings of a drunk sailor had mashed together with an old nursery rhyme running around in his head and was now playing itself on repeat. Grunting, he slowly got up and stretched, humming the tune as he did.

The past two days had gone by relatively quickly and according to Hisashi, they should be approaching land soon. He could not quite believe how quickly they have travelled, but sure enough, the weather turned warmer with each passing day and breathing in the fresh breeze on deck, he could tell that he was almost home.

As he walked around the deck, surveying the sea and looking out for land, he could not help but feel apprehensive at the thought of going home. He had left with the intention of earning money, but he was coming back with nothing instead. Leaning against the gunwale, he sighed and rested his cheek against his hand. Even the advance that his ex-captain gave him was lost to the sea. He was literally going home empty-handed.

Just then a dark spot appeared on the horizon. The speed at which it grew bigger by the second was worrying though. Just how fast were they travelling?

A series of loud, heavy clangs and bumps came from behind him and he spun around but, as usual, he saw nothing that could have made that noise. The disparity between the size of the living space from the outside and the inside would never cease to confuse him. He just knew that those noises were part of that disparity too, even if he could not tell what it was.

Moments later, Hisashi stepped through the curtains onto the deck with Atsushi in tow. Passing by, Hisashi looked him up and down then turned away towards the gunwale. The boat was already slowing down as the main island of his hometown began to fill their field of view, coming to a languid crawl by the time the piers came into view. He was home. Despite travelling for only three days, he really did get brought home. He still did not quite know how to feel about this.

Looking around, Hisashi squinted his eyes and muttered, “We're here but… Why is it so crowded?”

“Ah, might be because it's almost the new year, sir,” he answered, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed. He was not all that sure though. He had been away without a reliable calendar within reach after all.

“New year?” Atsushi echoed. “The festive market should be up and running then,” he mused quietly.

He noticed Hisashi giving Atsushi a wary side glance but he said nothing. Instead, he went back indoors without a word, leaving Atsushi to his thoughts. He never did ask them for a clear definition, but after a couple of days with them, he began to get an inkling of what their relationship was. After all, it was impossible to remain deaf to those noises he accidentally heard while staying in this boat. It did explain why Hisashi was so distressed over Atsushi being upset at him on the first day though.

While Hisashi was gone, the boat slowly but surely began to turn east, bobbing along the coast until the beach and the cottage came into sight. Thanks to the colder year-end weather, there was no one around. Hisashi reappeared on deck and stood next to Atsushi, who had a wistful smile on his face as he gazed at the beach.

“This is as far as we're taking you,” Hisashi declared.

“Ah?” He did not expect that. Was he supposed to swim to shore?

He was looking at the distance between the boat and the beach, trying to gauge if he had the ability to swim the distance when a cold palm covered his eyes, blanketing his vision in darkness. Before he could react, whispers began to fill his ears, clouding out his thoughts as he felt himself get lifted into the air. For a moment, he felt weightless, like he was floating but all at once, a jolt of shock stunned him as he entered the icy water.

Gasping in surprise, he felt water instead of air rush into his mouth. His heart raced he frantically kicked his legs and flailed his arms, reaching up towards the surface. It seemed to work. But as soon as he took his first breath of air, a wave crashed into him, tossing him to the side. Helplessly swept along, he continued kicking as hard as he could, hoping to find some way to break the surface again. He need not have feared though.

As the current continued dragging him along, he was soon thrown onto land and once the water retreated, he scrambled up the sandy bank, kicking up wet sand until he fell exhausted onto a drier part of the beach. Panting, he lay flat on the sand, taking his time to catch his breath.

He could hear sand crunching under hurried footsteps coming closer to him. Eventually, the sound stopped, and the shadow of a familiar face looked down at him. It was his grandaunt.

“Goodness, Takeshi, what are you doing here?” she asked. Wrinkled hands cupped his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be out at sea?”

“Uh…” Takeshi groaned and stared into space, trying to recover from his surprise. After all, it was the first time he has seen his grandaunt in a decade. “How… How did you know about that?”

“Oh, your mother came asking if any of our suppliers were the ones who took you with them,” she answered. “She was so distraught when they said they didn’t have you. How could you leave without telling her? Do you know how worried she was?”

“I did!” protested Takeshi. “I left a note-”

“That’s no way to tell your mother you would be gone for months!” his grandaunt reprimanded.

Takeshi winced and turned away as he slowly pushed himself off the sand.

“Returning to my original question, why are you here on the beach? Where is the boat you left on?” probed his grandaunt.

“It… capsized, I think,” Takeshi mumbled as he wracked his brain to recall what happened.

“Capsized!?”

“Yeah, the waves in the Northern Sea were-”

“Northern Sea!? Do you know how far away that is from here, boy?” his grandaunt asked with disbelief.

“Well, it took us like… three months to get there,” Takeshi mumbled, wincing again as an aching pang pressed against his head.

“Then how did you get back here?” she asked.

“I… There was a…” Takeshi could not answer. He stared blankly at the ebbing waves in front of him. “I managed to hold onto a crate to float on after the wave hit us… and then…”

“And then?”

“I’m here…?” Takeshi frowned.

He couldn’t remember.  
  


* * *

   
“We’re leaving just like that?” Atsushi asked, staring wistfully at the slowly retreating island.

“Yes,” Imai replied.

“But…”

“But what?”

“But my music boxes,” Atsushi muttered glumly.

Imai sighed. “We’ve got a ton more now though.”

“None that plays My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,” whined Atsushi.

Imai ignored him, instead focusing his attention on steering them back out into open water.

“Hisashi~,” Atsushi whined again.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Imai turned and found Atsushi pouting at him with teary eyes. Imai shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a frown. “I already told you it’s not a good idea to go back while people who remember us are still alive.”

“Then we’ll just have to make sure no one sees us, right?”

Imai folded his arms and bit his inner cheek, remaining silent.

“Hisashi~ Please~,” Atsushi continued whining.

With a frustrated groan, Imai spun the steering wheel and made a sharp turn back the way they came from. Immediately, Atsushi tackled him with a hug from behind, making a happy noise as he squeezed Imai tight.

“I hate you,” Imai muttered flatly.

“And I love you,” Atsushi squealed with joy, giving Imai a peck on his cheek.

Imai hummed and sighed in resignation. He clasped a hand over Atsushi’s as he steered while Atsushi remained latched on him, softly humming the song as he watched the sunset while they travelled.

It was not far, neither did they travel for long, but as it was with this time of the year, days were short and by the time they came back to the beach, night has fallen. Imai led them into the sheltered bay near the old cottage, a place which was hidden until they accidentally found it decades ago. They never told anyone about it so it should be safe to hide their boat there while they retrieved Atsushi's box.

Leaving their boat, they walked down the pebble stone beach in their wooden sandals. Strolling hand in hand, it felt like they had been transported decades back into the days when they were still lived here. If Imai kept his thoughts silent, he could even pretend that they had just returned from an extended fishing trip and were heading home.

With Atsushi's carefree humming and the murmurs of the sea breeze filling his ears, Imai trudged up and over the small knoll that separated the hidden bay from their cottage by the sea. Before he saw it, Imai was worried about whether someone else might be living there now, but as it came into view, there were no lights in view. Everything was dark.

“Looks like no one's home,” Atsushi hummed.

“You know, they could've already thrown out everything we owned,” Imai pointed out.

Atsushi tightened his grip on Imai's hand. “I sure hope not,” he mumbled.

The wind seemed to blow colder, stronger as Atsushi's mood dipped and he stopped humming. Atsushi leaned close to Imai, hugging his arm as they passed the chicken pen with the coops and walked up to the door. Stopping, Imai's eyes darted around, searching for anomalies or changes that might indicate someone else's meddling. As far as he could tell, nothing was out of place.

Imai put his hand on the door handle and pulled. As expected, it did not budge. “Ah, well.”

Atsushi let go of Imai's arm and walked to the window on the side. Carefully pinching the muntin with his fingertips, Atsushi tightened his hold and pulled. The window swung open. A smug smile spread on his face.

Leaning in through the open window, Atsushi stretched his arm towards the door and Imai heard the clicking and sliding of the various latches coming open. Once done, Atsushi withdrew from the window and pushed it close again.

“It's much cleaner inside than I expected it to be,” Atsushi remarked as he rolled his shoulder.

“Hm, maybe Hina visits once in a while,” Imai mused, pulling the main door open. “She was here earlier after all.”

“Maybe,” Atsushi agreed.

Imai walked in after Atsushi and closed the door, sliding one of the latches back in place. Turning, he saw that Atsushi was already looking around the place with nostalgia. All the musical boxes that used to sit all over the living area had been cleared away but aside from that, nothing else has changed.

“Maybe the boxes got put away, but everything else is still here,” Atsushi whispered, sounding slightly disappointed. Reaching towards one of the shelves, he picked up a picture frame and showed it to Imai. “Look! You with short hair! But… who made this?”

Imai went up to Atsushi and took the picture in his own hands. It was of Atsushi and him dressed in traditional garb sitting together on a bench. They were probably at a festival or something. “I got my sister to make it. I never put it out here though,” he frowned.

“No wonder I'm never seen it before. You sneaky bastard,” Atsushi muttered, taking the picture back as he gazed at it. “I'm definitely taking this with us.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“You never told me you had this made,” Atsushi remarked as he continued on into the house. Hugging the picture frame to his chest, he asked, “Are there more?”

Imai simply shrugged, walking along behind Atsushi who turned and narrowed his eyes at Imai for not answering. A corner of Imai's lips twitched up and he gave Atsushi a silent, lopsided smile.

Suspicious, Atsushi continued glaring at him for a long moment before turning away and walking towards the stairs that led up to the second floor. “I wonder if it's still the same up here,” he muttered. “Maybe I’ll find the rest of your picture stash.”

“Who knows,” Imai remarked nonchalantly.

“Why would you even get pictures of us made?” Atsushi asked, strolling down the second-floor corridor.

“So I’d still get to see you in case you ever decided to leave,” Imai replied.

Atsushi turned around sharply. “I won’t leave you,” he said firmly, his voice low as he furrowed his brow.

“I know, I know,” Imai sighed, putting an arm around Atsushi’s waist as they paused in the middle of the corridor. “But there was a time when you kept staring at the sea. Every time I looked at you, your eyes would be fixated in that direction… So I took precaution, in case I ever wake up to find you gone without a trace.”

“You… You never said anything about that before.”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to stay.”

The look on Atsushi’s face darkened. “I didn’t stay because I felt forced to.”

“I know,” Imai assured, caressing Atsushi’s side with his hand. “You had to make that decision for yourself for it to be this way.”

Atsushi pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Imai again. “It feels like you’ve been scheming behind my back.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” Imai hummed, giving Atsushi a squeeze.

Atsushi leaned into Imai and nuzzled against him with a sigh. “You’ve never mentioned any of this before.”

“You’ve never asked,” Imai shrugged.

Atsushi huffed and walked away. “Convenient for you to say.”

“Atsushi, are you upset at me?” Imai asked, striding after Atsushi.

Atsushi ignored Imai, continuing on his way towards their bedroom but as he passed the room where their study should be, he paused. “So that’s where they are,” he muttered softly.

“What?”

“All the musical boxes have been moved here,” Atsushi said, stepping into the study. “And… more pictures.”

As Imai entered the study, he found Atsushi flipping through one of many albums he had kept hidden away through the years. How did they get discovered?

“Hisashi,” Atsushi muttered breathlessly, “just how many did you make?”

Even Imai himself felt somewhat overwhelmed watching Atsushi take the albums out from the boxes and flip through all of them. “I suppose… I got a bit carried away…”

“A bit?!” Atsushi echoed, emotion raising the pitch of his voice as he looked up at Imai. “Oh, Hisashi…,” he muttered, casting his gaze back down on the pictures before him. “All these…”

“We’re not taking those with us, you hear me?”

“But why not?” Atsushi whined. “After all the effort you’ve put in… Look, there's even one with Hide and Yuta and Toll!”

“Okay, maybe just that one, I don’t need the rest of those. Remember what I just said? I would only have needed for them if you left me,” Imai reasoned. “Besides, your music box is the only thing we were supposed to bring back with us and we haven’t even found it yet.”

“Oh, it’s right here,” Atsushi muttered. Standing up, he went to the left rack and reached up to the topmost shelf to retrieve a lidless music box. “Still as broken as always,” he smiled wistfully.

“So we can go now?”

Atsushi's shoulders slumped and he looked around sadly before looking at Imai and sulking.

Imai sighed and clasped a hand over his face. “I knew it,” he muttered.

“Please? I promise we'll leave before anyone realises we were here,” Atsushi pleaded.

“No.”

Atsushi dropped to the floor, robes billowing out under him as he started slamming the open albums shut and noisily packing the albums back into the boxes.

“Atsushi,” Imai called as he watched Atsushi make a ruckus. “Atsushi, are you throwing a tantrum?”

Turning, Atsushi shot him a look, eyes flashing with indignation before he threw another album into the box.

“Oh, come on,” Imai groaned. “How old are you, five?”

“Yes,” Atsushi shot back, dropping the last few albums in.

As Atsushi stood up and tried to pass by, Imai caught him firmly by the arm, stopping him. Atsushi glared at him but said nothing. Imai furrowed his brow as he met Atsushi's stare. It felt like they were stuck in a stalemate while he waited for Atsushi to say something, but eventually, it was Imai who conceded.

Sighing heavily, he massaged his brow with a hand and muttered, “I'm not staying if the bedroom's covered in dust, you hear me?”

The intensity in Atsushi's lessened a bit but the sour expression on his face did not go away. With a muted “hm”, Atsushi walked back out into the corridor and wandered towards the bedroom.

“What's the point of me explaining to you why I don’t want to be here when you're just going to disregard it anyway?” Imai grumbled as he shuffled after Atsushi reluctantly.

Atsushi's pace slowed slightly and he turned, opening the door into the bathroom. He stepped in, looked around, and stepped back out, closing the door. As he continued on, a creased appeared on Imai's brow again, one of curiosity and worry over Atsushi's silence. Reaching the bathroom, he quickly replicated Atsushi's actions, searching for anything out of the ordinary, but the bathroom was the same as always. Imai closed the door and strode briskly towards Atsushi who stood outside what used to be their bedroom, gazing in with a look of yearning so intense that it pricked at Imai's heart.

“Atsushi?” Imai called.

“I missed this place,” Atsushi whispered softly. “I never wanted to leave.”

“It… It couldn’t be helped,” Imai muttered.

Eyes downcast, Atsushi nodded slowly and walked in, dragging a palm along the wall while in his other arm he clutched his music box and the pictures. Walking to the bedside cabinet, he put the items down on the top of it and opened the bottommost drawer. He rummaged around for a while before an old book out.

Imai immediately recognised it. “My journal?”

Holding the old, worn-out book, Atsushi carefully smoothed his hand over it. “I’m taking this,” he declared quietly.

“I didn’t think that it’d still be here…” Imai muttered.

He watched Atsushi simply put the journal with the rest of the items on the cabinet and sat down on the bed. Turning slightly, Atsushi opened the creaky windows and gazed down at the beach that stretched out below, lost in his own thoughts.

Walking over, Imai sat down on the edge of the bed and took Atsushi's hand in his. He could not quite tell what was eating at Atsushi, but when Atsushi looked at him, there was a mix of melancholy and nostalgia in his eyes. After a moment, Atsushi looked at the bed, slowly dragging a hand over the sheets.

“It’s not the same bed we slept in,” Imai observed.

“No. It’s not,” Atsushi agreed, shaking his head sadly. He sighed and squeezed Imai's hand as their eyes met and he said, “Let's go home.”

Imai brought his hand to Atsushi's cheek, brushing away Atsushi's long locks as he caressed him. Atsushi leaned into Imai's hand, a soft smile on his face as he tried to reassure Imai of his decision.

As they gazed at each other, an inexplicable emotion welled up and Imai found himself muttering, “I’m sorry.”

A wider smile broke on Atsushi's face, white teeth flashing before they disappeared. “What is this? A new apologising habit?”

“Somehow, it feels like all of this is my fault,” Imai muttered.

“And why would that be?”

“You wouldn't have had to deal with so much… baggage if we never met.”

“You say that like it's a good thing,” Atsushi sighed.

Imai held Atsushi's face in his hands, thumbs caressing his cheeks as he, too, sighed and said, “If not for me, you wouldn't have needed to know pain or sorrow.”

“And I wouldn't have known anything outside of the island,” Atsushi reminisced, putting his hands on Imai’s face as well. “Neither would I have known friends, nor family, nor love.”

“How mushy,” Imai muttered, pressing his hands together and squeezing Atsushi's cheeks.

Atsushi growled and held Imai's face firm as he leaned forward and crashed into Imai, bumping their heads together. “Hisashi!”

“Yes?” Imai responded, enveloping Atsushi in a hug as they fell onto the bed.

“What was that for?!” Atsushi asked, his voice muffled.

“You're being too sweet,” Imai answered, cuddling Atsushi. “My heart can’t take it. If you went on my heart might just stop-”

“Don't joke about that!”

“I'm just taking precaution.”

“You idiot,” Atsushi muttered, calming down in Imai's arms even as he kneed Imai's stomach, a little too close to his groin.

Imai grunted. “Hey, hey, hey, wait. You sure you want to do that?” he cautioned hastily.

Atsushi bent his knee again and Imai jerked away.

“Oy!”

Atsushi looked up at him and his lips twitched into a playful smile. Grabbing Imai's arm, he pulled Imai onto him, curling his legs around Imai's as assurance. Relaxing onto the bed, Atsushi let Imai lean in for a kiss. But before they could go any further, Atsushi broke away and frowned.

“What is it?” Imai asked, slightly perturbed.

“I think we should go back after all,” Atsushi mumbled, shifting around on the bed. “This is… far too soft and I can feel things jutting from it.”

Imai put a hand on the bed and pressed down. “Ah, the springs.”

Getting up, Imai extended an arm to Atsushi and helped him up from the far-too-yielding bed. Once on his feet, Atsushi picked up the journal, carefully slid the pictures between the pages, and took the music box with him. Without another word of protest from Atsushi, they left their house, walking across the windswept knoll and down towards the bay.

Together, they slipped into the water without a sound and took a quick swim back to their boat which was anchored in the shallow waters. Back on board, Atsushi put their souvenirs away while Imai warmed up their dinner. Without any guests around, things were quiet, peaceful, and they were free to do as they wish. Which led to Atsushi sitting on the low table in front of their fireplace after dinner, legs spread apart while Imai sat between them, kissing his thighs as he groped Atsushi.

Running a hand up and down Atsushi's legs, Imai dragged his tongue along Atsushi's inner thigh to his scrotum where Imai gently sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin. Atsushi's breath hitched, tossing his head back as his legs trembled from the pleasure. Reaching a hand down, Atsushi curled his fingers into the curls of Imai's hair, now undone after his hair tie came free earlier.

As Imai continued teasing him, Atsushi breathed, “Hisashi… I…”

Imai hummed, merely responding to him as he pushed Atsushi's legs higher for access.

Atsushi was about to speak again when Imai began licking his entrance, reducing his words to an impassioned moan. Tightening his grip on Imai's hair, Atsushi whimpered, “Hisashi…!”

A soft grunt came from below and Atsushi felt Imai's tongue push into him, making him cry out as he felt his insides melt from the pleasure. Imai kept his mouth working, licking and kissing as he moved back up and began nipping at the base of Atsushi's shaft.

Feeling like he was getting a period of respite from the intense pleasure, Atsushi prepared himself to speak again but brief the respite was for Imai shifted again to take Atsushi into his mouth. If that was not enough, Imai also began thrusting his fingers into Atsushi, curling them with each in and out.

Biting his lip, Atsushi whined and scratched his nails against Imai's scalp while his other hand gripped the edge of the table hard. He tried calling Imai again. “Hisashi…”

“Hm?” Imai hummed nonchalantly.

Atsushi could feel the vibration in Imai's voice stimulating him as his tip hit the back of Imai's throat. Again, the rush of heat that ran through his body made Atsushi falter and he sighed uselessly. Frustrated, Atsushi groaned and mustered himself together to speak while Imai sucked him off.

“Hisashi, I need… I want to a-!” His words turned into another moan as Imai’s hand gently squeezed his balls, fingers wandering lower again.

Taking Atsushi out of his mouth, Imai rose up and leaned over Atsushi. “Yes, yes, yes,” he muttered. “You want, you need, as usual,” he went on as he trailed kisses along Atsushi's collarbone.

Atsushi squirmed in Imai’s arms, trying to protest but instead, all he managed was to get swept away by pleasure again when Imai pressed his erection against Atsushi’s entrance and gradually eased himself in. Letting himself fall drop into Imai’s arms limp, Atsushi gave up on trying to get Imai to listen to him. Nothing would come across the right way now anyway.

Holding Atsushi close, Imai buried his face in the crook of Atsushi’s neck and listened to his shallow breathing steadily escalating into moans. Atsushi’s wrapped his arms around him, nails raking across his robes as the pleasure took over and in return, Imai bit Atsushi’s shoulder, holding back slightly so as to not draw blood. Atsushi would not be too happy about that anyway.

In Imai’s arms, Atsushi trembled and arched his back as a drawn-out whine escaped his lips. Clutching Imai tight, Atsushi sighed, panting shallowly as he felt the pleasure wash over him and the warmth of Imai ejaculating onto his body, mixing with his own cum.

Almost immediately, Imai swept Atsushi up in his arms, intending to bring him to the bath but instead, he stumbled and fell back into the pile of cushions behind them. After an initial yelp of surprise, Atsushi burst out laughing, nuzzling Imai affectionately as he put his arms around his neck.

Imai pursed his lips. “Fucking legs,” he swore. “Looks like I need a moment.”

Atsushi continued laughing, poking a finger at Imai’s cheek as he said, “That’s for not listening to me earlier.”

“What? When?” Imai asked, incredulous.

“While you were between my legs.”

“What did you say?”

“I was going to ask… if we could stay here awhile more,” Atsushi said slowly, slightly apprehensive of Imai’s reaction.

Immediately, Imai frowned. “Why?” he asked back. “And when did you say that? I don’t remember anything like-”

“Well, I was _trying_ to ask but…”

A smug, lopsided smile tugged at Imai’s lips. “Got too caught up?”

“Mm…” Atsushi laid against Imai, resting his head on his shoulder.

Putting a hand on Atsushi's head, Imai hummed and sighed, “Stay awhile more, huh…”

“We're running low on a whole lot of shellfish, and seaweed, and we haven’t had crabs in a long while, and-”

“I know,” Imai muttered. “I thought of going somewhere further south for that.”

“But we know where everything is here,” Atsushi reminded. “And there are the local varieties, especially the seaweed and those tiny crabs.”

“That's true,” Imai agreed quietly. “But the people,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “No one wants to see a dead man walking around-”

“You're not-!”

“I am to those who remember me, aren't I? It might be a little more ambiguous for them when it comes you,” Imai looked down at Atsushi, caressing his face, “but from what you said, it was clear I was gone.”

Atsushi's jaw tensed and he turned away, burying his face in Imai's shoulder again as he clutched Imai's hand and whispered, “Don't say that.”

“But…” Imai paused and sighed. He probably should not say more. Hugging Atsushi, he muttered, “Sorry.”

Atsushi looked up at him and frowned. “It's a thing, isn't it?”

“Huh?”

“This… apologising here and there.”

“It… just… felt appropriate?”

A low hum rumbled in Atsushi's chest as he narrowed his eyes, contemplating.

“What? Is it bad?” Imai asked.

“No… but it's unusual,” Atsushi mumbled. Breaking into a smile, Atsushi craned his neck up and gave Imai a peck on his cheek, adding, “Thank you.”

Imai's lips twitched into a smile and leaned in to give him a nudge before adjusting his hold on Atsushi. With a barely audible grunt, Imai rose to his feet again, this time steady. His smile grew wider and he began walking, heading towards the stairs.

“You know, I can walk,” Atsushi quipped.

“Mhmm,” Imai hummed, pausing in front of the door to let Atsushi pull it open. Folding his shoulders in, Imai hugged Atsushi closer, careful not to hit the door frame as they went in.

“So?” Atsushi asked. “Will we stay a little longer?”

“How much longer?” Imai asked, carefully descending the stairs.

“Um… Until we're done?”

“With?”

“Getting whatever we need…?”

Imai sighed and nodded. “Reasonable.”

“I promise we'll stay out of sight.”

“You know it's only a matter of time-”

“We'll be gone before then.”

Imai looked down at Atsushi, concern apparent in his eyes. “I'm not too sure of that,” he sighed, putting Atsushi down as they entered the bathroom.

Atsushi held Imai's face in his hands. “We'll be fine,” he said firmly. “I _know_ it.”

Meeting Atsushi's eyes, Imai took a hand in his and held it to his lips, planting a kiss on Atsushi's fingers as he muttered softly, “I hope you're right.”


	4. 4

Rumours have been flying around town recently. Rumours about a couple of rather large, never-before-seen creatures swimming in the waters around here. Porpoises tend to visit the area, but this was not the season for them. Some said that the creatures did not look much like porpoises though. But no one has ever caught a close enough look to confirm it. They disappeared far too quickly.

Hina noticed that the rumours began a day or so after her grandnephew’s return. Something inside her wondered if his miraculous reappearance had something to do with it. It could not be the black-robed visitor, could it? He usually came by without anyone noticing. Not to mention he had just left not too long ago. Preoccupied, Hina stood unmoving in the middle of the chicken pen as Takeshi went around to pick up the eggs that had been laid by the hens.

While Takeshi was away during the past few months, his mother came to Hina asking if anyone had seen him. It was then when Hina heard from her that Takeshi had apparently run off to sea in his efforts to help pay their bills, leaving behind a sizeable sum of money along with a note that said it was an advance. Both Hina and his mother knew that it was far too much to be paid for a mere fishing trip. Things did not look good. But now that he was back, Hina decided to take him under her wing and settle things for them. Had she known earlier that they were in trouble, none of this fuss about Takeshi going missing would have happened.

As she watched Takeshi work, she marvelled at how such a conscientious boy could be the child of her useless nephew who had, in a similar fashion, boarded a ship and disappeared. The only differences between his father’s fate and Takeshi’s were that it was a gambling ship that his father went onto and he was never seen again. That was a good decade ago now.

Hina shook her head and sighed to herself. So many things have happened and it felt like it all began with Uncle Hisashi’s passing. There have been ups and downs, but at the very least, she has managed to keep her uncle’s stall going. Her own son has even gone on to branch it out to other nearby towns. She very much preferred to remain in the stall that her uncle established with Uncle Atsushi though. Remembering him, Hina sighed again. She desperately did not want to believe the rumours that he had chosen to join Uncle Hisashi, but after twenty years and no word from him, it was hard to believe otherwise.

“Grandaunt?” Takeshi called, coming up to Hina. “I think I’ve got all the eggs but it seems like there’s about half a dozen less than usual…”

Hina frowned and cast her eyes around the pen, looking intently at her brood of chickens as she tried to determine if anything was off with any of them. “Odd… They all look fine,” Hina remarked quietly. “Either something’s wrong with some of the girls, or someone’s stealing out eggs.” It was worrying.

“Should I call the vet just in case?” Takeshi asked.

“Yes, bring the eggs in and do that.”

Takeshi nodded and strode off briskly.

Following behind, Hina pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and folded her arms, pondering the recent oddities which she noticed inside the seaside cottage. Whenever she returns to the cottage in the morning, she would find that some things have shifted from their original positions. It seems like someone was breaking in despite how the door had so many locks on it. She might have decided to write it off as a mere prank but what worried her that things have gone missing too.

The first thing she noticed that disappeared was the picture of her uncles that she put up in the living room; a small one on the display shelf that used to be crammed with music boxes. It was not the only one that went missing though. She found the picture albums tampered with, and upon checking them, she found two more missing; one of her family from more than fifty years ago, and one of her uncles and their friends which included Takeshi's great-grandfather. Hina still had other pictures of them all but losing them still stung. Worse still, these were just the first of many missing items following Takeshi's return.

Yesterday, upon scrutiny, Hina realised that some of Uncle Atsushi's music boxes had also disappeared along with a few articles of clothing. In particular, the traditional robes that her uncles’ favoured donning back then. If Uncle Atsushi was to ever return, this would be the worst possible time for him to do so. Everything he treasured was nowhere to be found.

Going back into the cottage, Hina went to the kitchen, opened the overhead cabinet, and stifled a groan. A couple more glass jars have gone missing. How was she going to store all the seasoned seaweed now? Pursing her lips, a determined expression set in Hina's face. She has had enough.

“Takeshi, I'll be coming back to the cottage after we close up tonight.”

“Oh? What for?”

“Things have been going missing and I'm going to find out why,” Hina declared.

Takeshi looked at her, surprised. “Well, then I'd better come with you, Grandaunt.”

“Oh, no. You should go home and be with your mother instead.”

“I’ll just let her know that I'll be accompanying you here tonight. I'm sure she wouldn't want me leaving Grandaunt alone to deal with possible thieves either,” said Takeshi.

Hina smiled and nodded appreciatively. What a nice boy.   
  


* * *

 

 

“I really don't think we should be taking so many things from here,” Imai muttered to himself. They should not even have come back to the cottage as many times as they already have though.

“We don't have money to buy them though, do we?” Atsushi pointed out as rinsed a jar in the sink. “I can't even have ice cream,” he lamented.

“Still going on about that,” Imai scoffed. “Even if we did, we can't just openly walk into town. Imagine the amount of attention we'd get just for being strangers. Not to even mention that people love staring at you anyway.”

A thought struck Atsushi and he suddenly looked up from the sink. “Don't we have those masks we used to wear during festivals?”

“You want to bring more things back?” Imai asked in a deadpanned voice.

“But they'd be useful! Since you don't like people staring at me,” Atsushi quipped, looking over his shoulder to smirk and wiggle his eyebrows at Imai.

Imai shut his eyes and sighed. Turning and walking towards the stairs, he muttered, “It's only a matter of time before you find a way to empty this house out.”

Atsushi laughed; a pleasant sound that soothed the irritation in Imai's chest. Ascending the stairs Imai could not help but smile to himself. He did have to admit that despite the stress of vigilance, being back in this area felt nice.

Going into the study, Imai opened the chest where their clothes were stored. Digging down to the bottom, Imai groped around until his fingers hit something hard. He tapped his nails on it and heard a series of loud clacking. He smiled. Curling his fingers around the thin piece of wood, Imai grabbed it and pulled it out. He looked at it. It was Atsushi's black cat mask. One more. He stuffed his hand into the clothes again and moved it around until he hit something hard again. Imai grabbed the wood and pulled it out as well. His white fox mask.

With both masks in hand, Imai stood up and dusted his knees. Closing the chest, he was about to leave the room when he heard a voice from downstairs that made his breath stop. “Uncle Atsushi?”

Imai cursed under his breath. Hina was not expected to come back at night but they have definitely gotten too complacent for this to happen.

Walking to the top of the stairs, Imai sat down against the wall, out of sight. Perhaps Atsushi could convince her to leave. Although he could not see them where he sat, he at least could hear their conversation clearly.

“You finally came back!” came Hina's hushed exclamation. She sounded older, more tired. How long has it been?

“Yes, well…” Atsushi sounded strained. Good that he was not too happy about this.

“Why didn't you come back earlier?”

“You've been waiting?”

“Of course! When you disappeared after Uncle Hisashi…” Hina's words trailed away. Oh, bother.

“I'm sorry.” Atsushi sounded breathless. Oh, great. “I wasn’t exactly… thinking straight…”

“Oh, this is silly,” Hina sniffed. “This is a happy occasion! And I haven't introduced you to him. This is Takeshi, my grandnephew.” Grandnephew? Oh no.

Atsushi took a moment to answer. “Nice… to meet you!” That sounded forced.

“Nice to meet you too, sir.” Oh, yeah, Imai definitely knew that voice. “Pardon me, but… you look familiar-”

“That's not possible,” Atsushi answered curtly. 

“Oh, okay, but… how is it that you look younger than Grandaunt-”

“Don't ask,” came another curt reply from Atsushi. That seemed to shut the boy up.

“Oh, some things we'll never know Takeshi,” Hina dismissed. “Even Uncle Atsushi himself isn’t too sure about that, is he?”

Atsushi hummed softly.

“But how have you been all these years?” Hina asked.

Imai heard Atsushi take in a deep breath. “Well… I've been… well…”

“It's been difficult, hasn't it?” Hina surmised.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Without Uncle Hisashi?”

Atsushi made a strangled noise. “Um, well…”

“For as long as I could remember, you were always together with him after all,” Hina went on. “I must admit it feels weird to see you without him…”

“Ah, Hina… that, well…”

“Do you still think of him?” Hina asked.

“Every day,” Atsushi answered without hesitation.

“Do you still… I remember how hard you took it when…”

“Well… he's… not exactly gone,” Atsushi muttered and Imai winced. Was he going to spill it?

Hina chuckled. “You're right, he still does live in our memories, doesn't he?”

Atsushi forced out an affirmative hum. Imai huffed upon hearing it, stifling a laugh. What kind of face was he making now?

“When I go to the stall, sometimes I feel like I'd see him there behind the counter again,” Hina reminisced. “And looking at all these things you used to own together in this house… though some seem to have gone missing.”

“Oh, that was just us,” Atsushi said nonchalantly.

Imai tensed up. He said ‘us’. Imai desperately hoped that Hina did not pick up on that.

“Us?” Hina repeated. Well, fat hope.

“Excuse me?” Atsushi returned.

“I heard you say us.”

“Did I?”

“Did you come with someone?” Hina asked.

“Uh…”

“… Are you with someone else now?”

“No! No, no, no! I could never-!”

“Ah, you  _ are _ still wearing the ring,” Hina observed. “Wait. Weren’t there two? Where's Uncle Hisashi's ring?”

“Oh goodness, how do I explain this…”

Imai covered his face in his hands and sighed. Only a little too heavily

“Did you hear that?” Takeshi asked. Oh shit.

“Hear what?” Atsushi asked back.

“I think I heard someone upstairs-”

“Don't!” Atsushi shouted. Imai heard Atsushi's sandals approach the staircase in a run. He peeked down. Atsushi was standing at the foot of the stairs. “Don't go up,” he said quietly, looking up at Imai with a silent cry for help.

“Uncle Atsushi, you're acting very weird,” Hina remarked, sounding rather concerned.

“Oh, Hina, I really don’t know how to say this to you…”

“Uncle Atsushi, I can understand if you’ve moved on-”

“Oh, heavens no,” Atsushi grimaced.

“Then who’s up there?” Hina asked. With neither of them speaking, the long pause felt like it lasted forever until Hina breathed, “You’re not saying it's…?”

“I can't say anything,” Atsushi breathed. “I really can't.”

“This is why I’ve always said that it’s a bad idea to keep coming back,” Imai sighed, slowly getting up.

“It can't be…” Hina whispered.

“Damn right about that,” Imai muttered as he descended the stairs.

Atsushi turned around, whispering “I'm sorry” with a guilty look on his face. Imai stretched an arm out towards Atsushi, holding him in a one-armed embrace as Atsushi mumbled, “This is all my fault.”

Rubbing his back, Imai muttered softly, “As long as you know.” As Atsushi buried his face in Imai’s robes, Imai finally turned to address an understandably shocked Hina. “Hello, Hina.”

With a weak exclamation of “Uncle Hisashi!”, Hina dove into Imai's embrace, squeezing him tight as audible sobs came from her.

Imai sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “Yes, yes, yes, please don't pass out.”

Hina laughed as she removed herself. “I'm sorry, I'm just… I didn't expect… You're alive! And young...er?”

“Yeah, I don't know why either,” Imai muttered. That was a quick recovery from Hina though. Then again, he should have expected this coming from someone who had spent much of her early life frolicking around at the beach with Atsushi in his natural form.

Hina put a hand on her chin and pondered. “And you're dressed like the other… Oh, goodness, I just realised I don't know his name…”

“Which other?” Imai asked, perplexed.

“He's like Uncle Atsushi, but dressed in black too?”

Immediately realising who she was referring to, Imai blurted incredulously, “You know him?!” 

“He says he visits you at the stall about once every year when you were around and I suppose he's just meant to keep that up?” Hina mused.

“Yes, he did visit once a year but he never went that far inland,” Imai corrected. “He’d only ever drop by the beach and it was to look for Atsushi, not me.”

“Oh? I wonder why he said that then…” Hina trailed 

“What is he up to…” Imai muttered to himself, frowning.

“Doesn't seem like anything bad,” Atsushi remarked, rubbing Imai's back in return.

Imai dragged his hand down his face, casting his eyes to the ceiling as he grumbled quietly. As much as he did not like it, Atsushi was right.

“But why have neither of you ever visited through all these years?” Hina asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

“Because a dead man should remain dead,” Imai answered bluntly. “It makes no sense for me to suddenly come back alive, younger to boot and live here again as if nothing happened. It won’t be appreciated and I don't belong here anymore.”

“That's not true!” Hina protested. “You'll always have a place with us-”

“You can’t tell me that a good number of our relatives weren't glad that I finally kicked the bucket,” Imai retorted.

“They- Well…” Hina was tripping on her words, unable to speak.

“All sorts of complications would arise if I were to come back,” Imai hissed.

“But you could've just dropped by… or left a sign that Uncle Atsushi or you were well,” Hina muttered.

“And we should have,” Atsushi agreed. Leaving Imai's side, he went towards Hina, enveloping her in a hug as he said, “We should have tried to come back sooner.”

“But we couldn't,” Imai reminded softly. “Our trajectories have always been dictated by the people we pick-” Imai abruptly stopped speaking, catching himself before he said any more. He almost forgot that this… Takeshi, who had been quietly observing so far, was still here.

“By who?” Hina asked.

Imai grit his teeth, tensing his jaw. Why did she have to be so sharp? He exchanged a furtive glance with Atsushi. How was he supposed to salvage this?

Atsushi swallowed and his eyes darted between the three of them, giving their situation a quick think before he leaned closer to Hina and whispered something into her ear. Once he was done, Hina turned and gave him an affronted look. Atsushi could only give her a subtle grimace and shrug apologetically. Hina then turned to Imai and her eyes flashed with the same rage before he tersely addressed Takeshi.

“Takeshi, would you be a dear and clear up the bedrooms for use?” she asked tersely.

“Um… okay…” Takeshi reluctantly crept past Imai and went upstairs. He clearly wanted to stay and listen more.

Once they heard a door close, Hina immediately snapped in a hushed tone, “How could you do that to him!? How could you wipe his memories!?”

“It's a matter of self-preservation,” Imai grumbled as he folded his arms across his chest. “We did initially let visitors keep their memories but they started spreading the word about us and there were some who started to deliberately seek us out.”

“It was… not good,” Atsushi muttered softly, sucking on the inside of his cheek as he went quiet.

Hina turned to look at him, curious, but Atsushi simply smiled sadly at her. She clutched his hand in concern. “What happened?”

“Those people either sought whatever imagined treasures we had or… him,” Imai muttered darkly. “Some idiot went around starting a rumour about some kind of boon that he gives. Immortality or something.”

“At least you managed to turn that boon into death,” Atsushi added with a satisfied smirk.

“What!?” Hina exclaimed.

“You have to understand, Hina, neither of us wanted things to turn out like this,” Imai implored, ignoring her exclamation.

“Uncle Hisashi, what did you-”

“Fair reparation for what was attempted,” Atsushi answered for Imai. Hina snapped her shocked gaze to him, appalled at what Atsushi was saying. He simply met her eyes with an unflinching stare and a forced smile. “And no, there's no need to burden you with the details,” he added quietly.

Hina's silence dragged on as she continued staring at Atsushi. Even after so many years together, Imai still did not quite know the full extent of what Atsushi could do. Like now. He was clearly letting Hina in on something despite what he said, but how he did it, Imai was not quite sure. Suddenly, Hina sucked in a breath and tightened her grip on Atsushi's hand, knuckles turning white.

“I'm… so sorry, I didn't know,” Hina whispered, her voice quivering.

“You didn't have to know,” Imai muttered to himself, annoyed.

“You couldn't have, could you?” Atsushi smiled, a little less forcefully now. Putting an arm around her shoulder, he squeezed it and added, “After all, it is past.”

“But how could these people… how did they find you? Don't you live in the sea?” Hina asked.

“Technically,  _ on _ the sea,” Atsushi corrected. “We have a boat.”

“A boat?” Hina echoed. “Can’t you just… swim around?”

“We still need a place to keep things… and to cook, since he’s into cooked food,” Imai reasoned, gesturing to Atsushi.

“Ah… So, lost seafarers would chance on your boat?” Hina asked, trying to get a sense of how things worked.

“Yes,” Imai affirmed. “I don't know how it happens but after we drop one off, the next one always appears sooner or later. For as long as I can recall, it's been an endless ferry service.”

“Haven't you thought of settling somewhere on land instead?” Hina asked.

“If here is what you're thinking of, then no,” Imai replied bluntly.

“That would be nice,” Hina admitted, “but I meant somewhere… more difficult to find, where it is less likely for people to just turn up.”

“It's just as unlikely to meet random people at sea, yet it just keeps happening, doesn’t it?” Imai grumbled.

“Still, it might be nice to have a place to settle at sometimes,” Atsushi mused.

“As long as it’s uninhabited,” Imai emphasised. “Even those shallow water dwellers were always trying to something funny back then,” he reminded.

Atsushi grimaced, nodding as he recalled what things were like before they first met. “An uninhabited island is definitely hard to find these days…”

“Come to think of it, why do people like picking on you?” Imai asked.

“Huh?”

“It’s always been like that back on the island, back when we lived here, and now with these random encounters…”

Atsushi stuck out his lower lip and shrugged. “Curse of a pretty face?”

“You know what?” Imai walked over to Atsushi and snapped the cat mask over his face. “How about you just wear this for the rest of your life?”

“Ow!"

“That’s no solution!” Hina chided.

“Won’t it backfire?” Atsushi countered, his voice sounding hollow behind the mask. “Imagine not seeing my face the whole time and when it’s time to eat,” he lifted the mask up, “boom.”

“My heart explodes,” Imai said in a deadpanned tone.

“Hisashi!” Atsushi exclaimed, embarrassed.

“What are you being shy about?” Imai teased, a lopsided grin on his face as he pulled Atsushi into a hug. “Weren’t you the one being all mushy the other day-”

“We were alone!” Atsushi hissed.

“Oh, get a room,” Hina scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“That we will,” Imai smiled. With an arm around Atsushi, he began to steer them both away, towards the door.

“Wait, you’re leaving!?” Hina blurted, sounding somewhat dismayed.

“Didn’t you say to get a room?” Imai questioned, tossing a smirk over his shoulder.

Atsushi stopped halfway and slid out of Imai’s grasp. “Wait, wait, we need the jars,” he mumbled, darting back towards the kitchen sink to take out the three glass containers. “Hina, do you want a jar of pickled kelp? I’m sorry, we had to borrow quite a bit of vinegar from the kitchen-”

“That was you?!” Hina exclaimed.

“Ah, yes, we took a few eggs as well,” Atsushi said, stroking his chin in his hand as he ran through his memories. “We also borrowed a couple of utensils, we’ll bring those back soon, and-”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hina sighed with relief.

“What’s wrong?” Atsushi asked, concerned.

“I thought we had a thief breaking in every night!”

“That’s just us,” Atsushi smiled, bringing Hina into another hug. “See, Hisashi, we should’ve left a note or something. We scared poor Hina here.”

Making grumbling noises, Imai turned his back to them and leaned against the edge of the dining table, arms folded.

“You’ll be getting pickled kelp then,” Atsushi decided. “Is there anything else you’d want, Hina? After all, I believe we’ll be borrowing the kitchen a while more.”

“Ah!” Hina suddenly recalled. “Uncle Hisashi, I need your help with the stew.”

“Stew?” Imai echoed, nonchalantly looking over his shoulder.

“Well… I took over the stall after… But there’s always something off about the flavour,” Hina explained vaguely.

Imai frowned. “You got a sample here?”

“It’s all in the stall, unfortunately.”

Imai sighed and pulled his hair tie off, ruffling a hand through his long hair. He could already tell what was coming next.

“Hisashi?” Atsushi called.

“Yes?” Imai sighed as he tied his hair up again.

“Are we going into town?” Atsushi chirped.

Imai could practically hear him grinning. He sighed again. “Yes, but on one condition.”

“What?” Atsushi asked.

“Hina, buy him ice cream, will you?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hisashi…”

“Hm?” Before Imai could turn around, he felt a hand grab his crotch. “ _ Now?! _ Are you kidding me?” he hissed quietly as he looked over his shoulder at a half-dressed Atsushi in his rich blue robes.

After agreeing to head into town, they returned to the house the next day to change into regular clothes and make an effort to blend in. Imai did not expect this to take too long but now…

Atsushi's hands slid down the sides of Imai's legs. “I can't quite remember the last time I saw you dressed like this… white shirt… black pants,” he murmured, breath tickling Imai's ear as he pressed close from behind.

“For goodness sake, Atsushi,” Imai huffed as he felt Atsushi’s erection against his rear. “ _ I'm _ the one in pants here.”

“Does it matter?” Atsushi whispered, bringing his hands back up to unfasten Imai's pants.

“As if you’d care,” Imai muttered, voluntarily unbuttoning his shirt.

Atsushi grabbed his hand, stopping him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Removing my clothes? I don't want to soil what I'm intending to wear out,” said Imai.

“There are other clothes you can use if that happens,” Atsushi cooed, holding Imai's hands in his own while his other hand unzipped Imai's pants.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not,” Atsushi breathed, tilting Imai's head back as he raked his fingers through his hair.

With Imai's hair in his firm grasp, Atsushi pressed his tongue against Imai's exposed neck, dragging it up towards Imai's earlobe. Sucking on it, Atsushi slid his hand into Imai's pants and took out his hardening cock without hesitation. Atsushi pressed his thumb against Imai's tip, sliding his hand down his shaft. The sudden stroking made Imai’s knees buckle once and he leaned forward, planting his hands on the dresser in front of them with a loud thump.

Imai’s eyes shot towards the dresser mirror, looking through it to find Atsushi gazing back at him with a smug smirk and a hungry look in his eyes. Holding eye contact, Atsushi leaned forward too before closing his eyes and nuzzling against the fabric of the shirt on Imai's back as he continued grinding against Imai, emitting soft sighs as he did. 

Atsushi slowly released his hold on Imai's hair, shifting to push Imai’s pants lower past his hips. Imai could feel them sliding down to pool at his feet as Atsushi’s warm touch, a contrast to the cool morning breeze that came in through the open window of the bedroom, caressed his bare skin. Languidly, Atsushi began to stroke Imai's shaft, wrist curling while he ran his other hand along Imai’s rear and thighs. Imai grunted and clenched his fists, constricting his throat in an effort to stay quiet. He could hear Atsushi's soft chuckles and feel his warm breath through his shirt, slowly dissipating as Atsushi straightened up.

Sliding his hand lower, Atsushi lightly brushed his fingers along Imai's nether regions, teasing him with a light squeeze of his scrotum before continuing on to press into his perineum and finally into his rear. With a sharp exhale and a suppressed groan, Imai dropped his head onto the dresser counter, engulfing his vision in darkness as he let the full effect of Atsushi's affections overwhelm his senses.

Imai could hear his own breathing grow heavier, laboured as Atsushi curled his fingers in him as if coaxing the heat in his body to rise. The intense sensations in his lower half only grew stronger as Atsushi added more fingers, thrusting deeper at a constant pace until it became too much for Imai and his knees buckled again. Only then was there a pause in Atsushi’s movements when he shifted subtly to hold Imai steady with an arm around his waist.

“Hisashi…” Atsushi cooed, “let me see you.”

Imai reluctantly raised his head from the wooden countertop, a furrow in his brow as his half-lidded eyes met Atsushi’s tender gaze in the mirror. He watched Atsushi's robe part and felt Atsushi entering him, the heat sending shivers through his thighs while Atsushi's lips parted to left out a soft sigh. Atsushi began to thrust and Imai groaned softly as he felt his entrance stretch to accommodate Atsushi. 

Stretched out the hand that had been caressing Imai’s body, Atsushi leaned forward and put it in Imai’s reach. Clasping his hand, Imai linked their fingers together and held it to his chest as he braced with his other arm. Atsushi then curled his other arm around Imai's hips, reaching under for his erection to stroke him in tandem to his movements.

Imai could feel Atsushi's eyes on him as the furrow on his brow deepened and he squeezed his eyes shut. Atsushi’s fingers clasped his own tighter as he gradually increased his pace, thrusting harder and deeper. Out of nowhere, Atsushi struck a point in Imai and he gasped in surprise, knees buckling once more.

Atsushi's arms tightened around Imai, holding him as he breathed, “Hisashi…?”

Imai merely grunted in reply, throat tense as he tried not to let out anything more than another gasp while Atsushi kept thrusting.

Atsushi held him steady and sped up. With Atsushi regularly hitting that damned spot now, Imai felt as if he was melting into the dresser. Breathing hot and heavy together as the pleasure kept building in the pit of his stomach, Imai felt his control over his expression slip, face growing slack even as his eyes remained transfixed to Atsushi’s.

The pleasure peaked and Imai let out a soft grunt, his chest heaving as he felt it wash over him with a rush of heat. Atsushi, too, r eached his limit, crying out as his grip tightened on Imai's fingers and hips.

Slowly calming down, Atsushi pulled out and wrapped his arms around Imai as he straightened up. Atsushi put his chin on Imai's shoulder, burying his face in Imai's hair, breathing in deep and letting out a satisfied sigh. Imai put a hand on Atsushi's head, pushing his fingers through Atsushi's hair to run them through and knead with his fingers.

“You happy now?” Imai asked.

Atsushi looked at him through the mirror with mirth in his eyes. “Mm… yes.”

“Good,” Imai muttered and began to shift, taking each foot out of his pants on the floor. “I need the bathroom.”

“Hm?” Atsushi hummed, questioning.

Imai gave him a pointed look and left Atsushi's embrace. He gestured at his rear and said, “No thanks to you.”

Atsushi giggled. “Sorry I’m not sorry,” he smiled, sounding absolutely smitten.

Suddenly, Imai tensed up and left the room with a quick, tense shuffle.

“Hisashi?” Atsushi called after him as he followed.

Imai stopped outside the bathroom and asked, “What?”

“Why are you…?”

“Its. Leaking. Out,” Imai clipped. “Good thing no one else is home.”

Just as Imai finished his sentence, they heard the main door opening downstairs and a voice called out, “Hello? Is someone here?”

Imai cursed and darted to Atsushi, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into the bathroom with him.

As Imai closed the door, he heard the same voice say, “If it's grandaunt's uncles, I won't stay long! I just need to grab some things…”

Imai sighed as he turned around to find Atsushi seated on the edge of the bathtub and staring at him with a smile on his face. “Why are you smiling like that?” Imai asked.

“I like how you look,” Atsushi beamed, his eyes slowly looking Imai up and down.

“Huh?”

“I like how your shirt is long enough to  _ just _ cover you. And how my cum dribbles down between your thighs.”

Imai slapped a hand on his face and dragged it down. “Atsushi, please just get the bathwater running,” he requested, unbuttoning the rest of the buttons on his shirt as he approached the tub.

Atsushi reached behind him and turned the tap, starting the water flow before wrapping his arms around Imai’s waist. The same wide smile was plastered on his face as he beamed up at Imai.

“What?” Imai asked flatly. 

Humming, Atsushi nuzzled against Imai’s stomach and pulled him closer. “We have to wait, don’t we?” he muttered softly.

“And?”

“There’s nothing else to do,” Atsushi coaxed, nipping at Imai as his hands wandered around Imai’s back.

“I really wonder if there’ll ever be a day when you’ll be satisfied enough,” Imai remarked with a sigh.

Atsushi looked up at him, a soft smile on his face as they gazed at each other, only breaking eye contact when Imai brushed away stray strands of hair from Atsushi’s face. Bending over as Atsushi craned his neck up towards Imai, they met in a tender kiss, needing no words to explain what they shared.


	5. 5

It has been a while since they were here, but even if the shops and stallholders themselves have changed dramatically, the general layout of the marketplace was still the same. Although Imai barely recognised anyone now, he could still see some familiar faces in the younger generation, likely because they were related to old friends.

To his side was Atsushi, dressed in the robes that he favoured back in the day when they were not running the stall. They were as blue as the ocean deep, an unusually rich colour. He had also left his hair undone. Just the mere length of it attracted attention from passersby. It was not all that long really; just down to his tailbone. But it was likely because he was male that people were staring. Imai did realise that his choice of wearing his old embroidered robes over his otherwise normal shirt and pants was likely a combination that drew odd looks too though. As did their hand holding. So much for being inconspicuous.

With a hand on Atsushi's back, Imai steered them through the marketplace and its crowds while promising Atsushi that they would come back later and check out whatever caught his eye. It was still as busy as he remembered it to be. Maybe even more than before. Imai was worried that they might lose each other in all the hustle and bustle, but thankfully, Atsushi stayed close and they managed to arrive at their old stall together.

But it was dark.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Imai muttered, pressing his lips thin.

Atsushi stepped closer, trying to look over the counter and into the kitchen to see if there was anyone around. “It's quiet,” he commented.

“Let's go round the back to check,” Imai suggested, offering his hand to Atsushi. “We'll wait a while if Hina's not around.”

Atsushi nodded, taking Imai's hand and letting Imai lead them to the back entrance.

Slipping into the narrow space between their stall and the next, they traversed down the dark narrow alley in the back, walking until they came to the familiar sliding door. Imai let go of Atsushi's hand, putting one on the door as the other gripped the handle. Lifting the door up with a jerk, Imai then shook the door to shift the latch free before sliding the door open. Imai huffed, not sure whether he should be glad or worried that no one ever fixed this issue with the lock after so many years.

After letting Atsushi in after him, Imai closed the door and locked it again, lest a stranger comes in. When he turned, Atsushi was already looking around, refamiliarising himself with the place as he wandered through the small kitchen.

“Doesn't look like anyone's around after all,” Imai muttered to himself as he flicked the light switch on.

The generator turned on with a low hum and a buzz filled Imai's ears as the incandescent lights flickered alive, filling the space with warm light. Imai dragged his hand over the worn wooden countertops as he walked down the aisle towards Atsushi who was lifting the lid of a large pot.

The moment Atsushi caught a whiff of what was inside, Atsushi wrinkled his nose and muttered, “Too much water.”

Making an inquiring noise, Imai shuffled over and to the pot and peered in. Visually, it looked like his stew. Humming, Imai began looking around, searching for a ladle he could use. Out of nowhere, Atsushi handed him one, catching Imai’s attention by poking his side with the handle. Without skipping a beat, Imai muttered his thanks, took it and dipped it into the pot, stirring.

“You're right. Consistency's off,” Imai muttered, bringing the bowl of the ladle up towards them.

Atsushi dipped his pinky into the stew and tasted it. He pressed his lips thin. “Hm, it's missing quite a few things.”

“Like?”

“Sea urchin.”

“That's probably too expensive for them to procure.”

“Scallops… wait, but I see shreds in here.”

“Maybe not enough,” Imai muttered. “Or maybe it's not the right ones. Again, those are expensive though.”

“Are they? There's always so many when we-”

“People like pretending there isn't enough of something to get more money out of it.”

Atsushi wrinkled his nose in distaste. “That's just…”

“Anyway, nothing we can do about that,” Imai dismissed. Dipping his own pinky in, he gave the stew a taste. “Ah, you didn't mention the crabs, Atsushi. Aren't those your favourite? The roe?”

“I was getting there,” Atsushi huffed.

“Saving the best for last?” Imai chuckled.

“You?” Atsushi smiled suggestively.

Imai’s expression immediately turned stony. Rolling his eyes, he put the ladle down and started towards the cold storage box to see if there was anything they could use. Behind him, Atsushi laughed to himself as he carefully closed the lid back down. Imai heard a series of clicks and the soft roar of a fire coming to life.

“Low heat for how long?” Atsushi asked.

“I'll see if there's anything around here first,” Imai muttered. He did not feel too optimistic about things considering how empty the storage bin looked. Had the catch around here dwindled that much?

Imai felt Atsushi's presence draw close before he saw his shadow joining his own. “Do you think Hina went out to get more supplies?” Atsushi remarked, peering into the storage bin as well.

“Maybe…” Imai muttered. There were quite a few slabs of fillets but those would not add flavour. “I hope they got prawns or shrimp…”

“We could go looking for those,” Atsushi suggested.

Imai shook his head, closing the bin. “There’s no point if it’s not something they can get from around here.”

“So what do we do now?”

“I suppose… we wait,” Imai sighed.

Considering that they had to simmer the stew down and try to draw out more flavours, stepping out with the stove left on was a bad idea. So staying here was all they could do. Yet at the same time, with the lights on, someone was bound to think that they were open for business-

“Hey, Aunty Hina! Still got stew?!”

Atsushi stared at the curtains which separated the kitchen from the front of the stall in bewilderment. He snapped his head to Imai and mouthed, _What do we do?_

“We’re not selling,” Imai called out, hoping that it would make the person leave.

“You’re not Aunty Hina!” the voice retorted. “Are you that nephew of hers or something?”

“No.”

“Are you a thief here to rob the stall?”

“No!” Imai growled, offended. Marching past Atsushi, Imai shoved the curtains aside and stuck his head out. “I’m telling you there’s no stew to be served!” he yelled at the man seated outside the stall. He looked like he might be in his thirties.

“Who are you?!”

“None of your business!”

“Where’s Aunty Hina!?”

“I don’t know!”

“What did you do to her?!”

“What are you getting at?! I haven’t seen her all day!”

“Well, I’ve never seen you before!” the man exclaimed. “And now you’re behind the counter while Aunty Hina’s missing!”

“You can’t know everyone in this town-”

“I sure as hell do!”

“Argh!” Imai groaned and gesticulated violently. “Listen!”

The man stiffened up.

“There is no stew to sell. I am going to turn off the lights. Just leave.”

“But where’s Aunty Hina?!”

“I don’t know-”

“Hisashi?” Both men paused and turned towards the voice. It was Hina. She was approaching the stall with Takeshi next to her, both their hands laden with full bags. As she stopped next to the man, she addressed him, “Hisashi, how are you?”

“Aunty Hina! I’ve been well. Thought of dropping by but you weren’t here,” said the man who was also apparently named Hisashi. Finishing his greeting, his eyes slid towards Imai, staring at him with obvious suspicion.

“Ah! I see you’ve met Uncle Hisashi!” Hina introduced.

The other Hisashi raised his brows in surprise. “Same name huh?” he said contemptuously.

“So it seems,” Imai muttered with disdain.

“But Uncle? Why do you call him Uncle when he looks no older than me?” asked the other Hisashi incredulously.

Hina was at a loss for words at that question. Without skipping a beat, Imai answered for her. “Because _everyone_ calls me Uncle.”

Before the man could voice his confusion, Hina cut in and asked Imai, “And again, how did you get inside?”

“I know my stall well,” Imai muttered. He could feel the man staring hard at him, still suspicious.

Hina then went on to ask, “And where’s Uncl- … Atsushi?”

“Here,” Atsushi piped up cheerily, suddenly appearing next to Hina.

“I've never seen _you_ before either,” Hisashi remarked. For some reason, his tone became less confrontational.

Occupied with taking the purchases from Hina and Takeshi, Atsushi barely paid the man any heed. Lifting the bags, Atsushi passed them to Imai over the counter, bundle by bundle. Imai took them from him without saying a word, hanging them on one forearm until he could fit no more before sliding the rest onto his other arm.

“You sure you can carry all that, _Uncle_?” Hisashi scoffed, staring at the bags that Imai was now laden with.

“Do I look like I have any issues with them?” Imai retorted, effortlessly raising his forearms. Turning into the kitchen, Imai called to Hina, “Please tell me you have prawns in here.”

“Yes, I believe they're all packed together in one big bag.”

“Good,” Imai remarked as he put the bags on the kitchen counter.

Outside, Hina spoke to the man, “Hisashi dear, won't you come back tomorrow? We're not ready to serve anything today.”

“But I was craving your stew so badly while I was gone and I wanted to make it my first meal after coming back from my trip-”

“We're not serving anything,” Imai reiterated, raising his voice from the kitchen.

“There's nothing to serve anyway,” Atsushi added as his voice faded away, probably to make his way back into the kitchen.

As Imai started sorting out what Hina procured, she asked, “But Uncle Hisashi, aren't there leftovers in the pot?”

Imai paused his task and pushed the entryway curtains aside. Pinning it to the wall as he leaned against the fabric,  Imai looked at Hina, who was still outside the stall, and replied, “I don't serve anything once my pot's down to a third of its contents.”

“Ah…”

“You should learn to say ‘no’ more,” said Imai. Turning to the other Hisashi, he added, “And you. You should go home. There's nothing for you here.”

“There's fish to grill if he wants,” Atsushi called from the kitchen.

“Yes!” Hina piped in.

“Atsushi!” Imai groaned.

“You say ‘no’ too much,” Atsushi chuckled, giving Imai a peck on his cheek as he emerged at the threshold next to him.

“Have I ever said ‘no’ to you?” Imai growled.

“Well, yes, actually,” Atsushi smiled. “But…”

“But?” Imai asked, looking into Atsushi's eyes.

Atsushi let his words trail off, intently taking in Imai's visage as his gaze wandered across his face. Meeting Imai's eyes again, Atsushi found himself inching closer while a faint smile grew on his face.

“Get a room,” Hina groaned, snapping the two of them out if their reverie. Turning towards the way around the back, she announced gruffly, “I'm coming in.”

Imai hummed his acknowledgement before shifting his attention back to Atsushi again. “I'll go back in and work on the stew with her then,” he said, taking off the robes he wore as an outer coat.

“Need my help?” Atsushi asked as he started to gather his long hair up in his hands.

“It's alright,” Imai declined, handing a single chopstick to Atsushi. “I don't want you to ruin your clothes by accident.”

“I can grill the fish,” Atsushi insisted, chuckling as he curled his hair up.

“Argh, that,” Imai muttered, slapping his palm against his forehead. “No, the oil will jump and all that,” he said as he shook his head. “I'll let the kid deal with the fish. You just… stay here and entertain this…,” Imai glanced at the other Hisashi, “… or something."

Atsushi laughed and curled an arm around Imai's waist, holding him in a one-armed embrace. As he shimmied past Imai into the storefront, Atsushi brushed their hips together, pressing close and smirking at Imai's impassive expression. Watching Atsushi draw away, a lopsided smile tugged at Imai’s lips and he snorted a laugh at Atsushi, who crinkled his eyes at Imai, beaming at him while tying his wide flowing sleeves back.

Hearing Hina and Takeshi enter the kitchen, Imai hung his own robes up in the tiny old cabinet where the aprons were kept. Taking one for himself and two more for Hina and Takeshi, Imai said to Atsushi, “You know where I'll be.”

“Yes,” Atsushi nodded.

Imai cast a furtive glance at the other Hisashi who had been sitting at the counter quietly, supposedly minding his own business but clearly listening in on them. Giving Atsushi a firm look, he added, “If you need me-”

“I'll call you,” Atsushi finished, giving Imai a reassuring smile of his own.

Imai's lips twitched into a soft smile in response, and after a moment, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Once Imai was gone, the smile on Atsushi’s face disappeared and he ducked below the counter, taking out utensils for one from the shelves underneath. With the position of each item still in the same place, Atsushi had no problem locating them. Soft clinks rang out as he put the ceramic utensils on the countertop. Standing up, Atsushi reached over and put the utensils down in front of the other Hisashi.

“Thanks,” muttered the man.

“You're welcome,” Atsushi replied curtly as he ducked down again to look for the seasoned seaweed that they served as an appetiser.

“You…”

“What?”

“Where did you and that… Uncle come from?” asked Hisashi.

“Here.” Atsushi grabbed a jar of seasoned seaweed and put it down next to Hisashi.

“Um… thanks?”

Without responding, Atsushi disappeared below once more to look for the condiments tray.

Trying to start a conversation again, Hisashi remarked, “It looks like Aunty Hina knows you well.”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet?”

Atsushi stood up and put the condiments on the counter, replying, “Hisashi introduced us.”

“Thank you.” As he scooped out a portion if the condiments for himself, Hisashi continued, “So he's known her for an even longer time then?”

Atsushi folded his arms as his brow creased. “Yes.”

“Are they related then? I mean, she calls him ‘uncle’ so maybe it's a familial thing-”

“What are you trying to get out of this?” Atsushi interrupted, leaning against the table behind him.

“Grilled mackerel!” Takeshi suddenly announced, putting down a plate with a piece of grilled fish next to Atsushi before darting back into the kitchen.

“Well, I'm just wondering, you know?” answered the other Hisashi. “I’ve lived here all my life but I've never seen either of you before.”

Picking up the plate in his fingers, Atsushi reached over and served the fish to Hisashi. “Ever considered that you might have but you've forgotten about it?” Atsushi asked.

Hisashi stared at him as his brain worked through his memories, trying to see if Atsushi was right. Worried that the food would go cold though, he quickly abandoned that endeavour and put his hands together. Hisashi muttered a quick word of thanks and finally tucked in.

Eating his first mouthful, he sighed contentedly. “I've missed this,” Hisashi hummed. “Though Aunty Hina's stew would’ve been so much more satisfying.”

“My Hisashi's stew is way better,” Atsushi scoffed.

“Why doesn't he sell it then?” Hisashi challenged.

“We did,” Atsushi smirked.

“Where?”

“Here.”

“That’s not possible. Aunty Hina's always been the one running this stall,” countered the other Hisashi.

Atsushi's smirk grew wider but before he could say anything else, Imai's voice called to him. “Atsushi!”

A pleasant smile returned to his face as he turned to look towards the kitchen. Imai came out; ducking through the curtains clutching a pair of cooking chopsticks which held a bite-sized, deep-fried crab on one end.

“Be careful, it's hot,” Imai muttered, bringing it towards Atsushi.

“It's _so_ small,” Atsushi remarked, staring at it as he cautiously held it between his teeth before biting down on its soft but crunchy shell.

“This is apparently the biggest that this species ever grows,” Imai explained. Watching Atsushi's eyes crinkle in a smile, he asked, “How's it? Good?”

Atsushi nodded.

Imai looked over his shoulder and yelled towards the kitchen, “It's a go!”

The other Hisashi piped up, “Why wouldn't you ask the customer for his opinion?”

“Ask Hina for a taste if you want,” Imai retorted.

“Any oysters in there?” Atsushi asked.

“Oysters?” Imai echoed, scratching his chin as he thought about it.

“You serve oysters here!?” exclaimed Hisashi.

“We used to,” Imai answered. “We collected them ourselves but I don't think Hina can get them… I'll go check,” he muttered, returning into the kitchen.

“ _Used_ to?!” Hisashi muttered to himself incredulously.

“We also made crab roe in eggs, served it in those crab shells,” Atsushi reminisced as he mimicked the shape of the shell with his fingers. “Those, I loved the most.”

“How did you even get enough of those to put them on the menu?” Hisashi asked, disbelieving.

“We relied on ourselves and gathered our own ingredients,” Atsushi said with a nonchalant shrug.

“But-”

“Atsushi,” Imai called again. When Atsushi turned to look at him, Imai jingled a pouch of coins in his palm. “Let’s go get your ice cream.”

“Now?” Atsushi asked, surprised. As Imai began to untie the apron, Atsushi opened up the cabinet and took Imai’s robes out. “Don’t you need to work on the stew?”

“It needs to simmer for a while now,” Imai replied, taking the robe from Atsushi while hanging his apron up. “We have time.”

“Uncle Atsushi, you mentioned pickled kelp yesterday?” Hina inquired, brushing the curtains aside with a hand.

“Ah!” Atsushi covered his eyes with his hand and grimaced. “I left it in the house!”

“Why’s pretty face called Uncle too?!” Hisashi exclaimed in confusion.

“It’s none of your business,” Imai snapped, helping Atsushi free his sleeves.

“It’s alright,” said Hina to Atsushi. “If it’s in the house I can pick it up tomorrow morning when we drop by.”

“There should be three jars in the kitchen,” Atsushi said. “We’ve also brought back most of the utensils.”

“Already?” Hina blurted. “Are you leaving soon?” she asked, softly.

Imai and Atsushi shared a long look, silent until Imai answered, “Probably… by the end of this week.”

“Oh…”

“We’ve already stayed far longer than we normally would,” Imai went on, staring intently at Atsushi’s robes as he busied himself with adjusting them. Taking Atsushi by the hand, he led Atsushi towards the kitchen.

As Hina stepped aside to let them through, she asked, “You’ll be back soon?”

“Well, yes,” Imai replied. “I have to return this to you anyway,” he added, showing Hina the coin pouch before putting it into the hidden pocket in his robes. “And I’ll still have to check on the stew later. To see if this really worked."

“No, I mean, you’ll visit again? After you depart?” Hina asked as she followed them in, hopeful.

“I’ll make sure we do,” Atsushi promised.

“You can take his word for it,” Imai muttered. “After all, we’re only here because of him.”

“Ah, I’ll be counting on you then, Uncle Atsushi,” Hina smiled.

“Leave it to me,” Atsushi winked.

“Right, anyway,” Imai slid the backdoor open, “we’ll be back in a bit.”

“Do you know where the stall is?” Hina asked. “I can send Takeshi with you-”

“We’ll find it,” Imai said quickly as he stepped outside. He was not really keen on having additional company tagging along. “I know my way around.”

“If you say so.”

“See you, Hina!” Atsushi bade, waving a hand with a smile as he helped Imai slide the door close.

The light from the kitchen disappeared abruptly and they paused, taking a moment to let their eyes adjust to the dimly lit alley before swiftly making their way out. Once on the main street, Imai slowed their pace to a leisurely stroll.

“So what did you put into the stew?” Atsushi asked as they walked side by side.

“I don’t want to tell you yet,” Imai answered.

“What?” Atsushi frowned, turning to stare at Imai. “When did you start being secretive?”

“I’m not being secretive. I’ll tell you _after_ you taste it,” Imai clarified, squeezing Atsushi’s hand as he spoke. “I want you to try and guess what we put in.”

Atsushi narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “It sounds like you’ve put in something you never did before.”

“I’m not saying,” Imai insisted.

“But you put in the prawns?”

“I’m not saying.”

Atsushi clicked his tongue and looked away, annoyed. “I hate this.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Imai reminded. “I just hope that it works the way I want it to.”

“Is it supposed to be a substitute for all those ingredients that Hina can’t get?” Atsushi asked, still trying to pry out an answer from Imai.

Imai paused, thinking for a moment before replying, “Sort of, yes. It’d be helpful if you would tell us how it compares later.”

“You really won’t tell me what it is?”

“I will, but not now,” Imai grinned as he watched Atsushi roll his eyes and pout. “Oh, come on,” he coaxed as they came to a stop before an ice cream stall, “you wanted ice cream, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Since when did they start making so many flavours?” Imai muttered, staring at the menu. “There’s even… squid ink?”

“What?” That piqued Atsushi’s interest.

“Squid ink doesn’t taste like anything,” Imai scoffed. “I’m pretty sure it just tastes like regular old ice cream.”

“I’m not interested in that anyway.”

“Apple?”

“Tempting, but maybe something else.”

“There’s the usual vanilla, chocolate. There’s… lavender?”

“What?”

“Like, the flower, I suppose.”

Atsushi scrunched his nose and shook his head. “No… Oh, there’s mango.”

“Want that?”

“Or chestnut… Or melon… I don’t know. There’s too many,” Atsushi sighed, looking genuinely distressed.

“I could let you taste them before you decide,” a lady, the stall holder, piped up with a smile.

Happily, Atsushi accepted her offer, going on to sample just about every flavour on the menu before finally, predictably, deciding on apple in the end. With how much he had eaten, Imai was surprised that Atsushi still had the appetite for a large one, but nevertheless, he did. Imai paid the stall holder, adding an extra tip for the trouble and then continued on their stroll.

Wandering around town, they eventually found themselves walking along the port where Imai's old family home stood. Going past, they barely slowed nor gave it a glance. There were people still living in there, likely relatives, and there was nothing for them there anyway.

Moving on, they kept on walking until they came to the end of a disused pier. They sat down on the edge, taking their sandals off and dipping their toes in the water as they watched the sunset while sharing the remainder of Atsushi’s ice cream.

With Atsushi leaning against his shoulder, Imai took a bite out of the light wafer cone and cast his eyes across the horizon. Watching the scenery, he eventually found himself staring at the cliffs which cast a long shadow across the bay.

“You used to love being up there despite its old name,” Imai muttered out of the blue.

“Hm?” Atsushi turned, following Imai's line of sight up to the looming cliffs. A short huff came from Atsushi before he shifted, deliberately turning away from the cliffs. “I grew sick of it.”

Imai hummed and put an arm around Atsushi's shoulders, hugging him. “That's rare coming from you.”

“Try sitting up there and staring at the same thing for over a day and then tell me if you still like it.”

“Weird,” Imai muttered, “I think I've been staring at you for a good number of decades but I haven't felt that way yet.”

Atsushi barked a laugh and slapped Imai’s thigh, glancing up before deliberately rolling his eyes at Imai.

“Well, it’s true.”

“Stop it,” Atsushi muttered, pushing the half-eaten cone into Imai’s face. Imai took a bite, and as he chewed Atsushi mused, “I don’t even remember exactly how long I was up there for.”

“ _I_ definitely wouldn’t know,” Imai said as he swallowed the sweet, apple-tinged wafer. “After all, I’m pretty sure you’re talking about when I was-”

Atsushi stuffed the cone into Imai’s face again, cutting him off. “Though I vaguely remember wishing that you’d reply me,” he said softly.

“Yet now you thrust food at me to shut me up,” Imai sighed while chewing another mouthful of wafer and ice cream.

“You have to agree that silence is nice, sometimes.”

“Maybe I just won’t answer you ever again then- Ow!”

Atsushi slapped Imai’s thigh again, harder this time as he glared angrily at Imai. “Don’t you dare!” he hissed.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Imai said softly as he gently caressed Atsushi’s cheek with his fingers. “Even if you did do that to me just recently.”

Atsushi’s expression darkened and he shoved Imai aside, turning away to sulk.

“Are you really doing this again?” Imai sighed.

Atsushi remained silent, quietly finishing the rest of his ice cream with his back to Imai.

“Fine,” Imai muttered, lying down next to Atsushi. “Fine, I’ll wait. At least I can see you.”

Imai stared up at the darkening sky, listening to the waves gently hitting the port and the faraway calls of seabirds as Atsushi crunched on his cone. Even with Atsushi seemingly upset at him again, Imai felt strangely relaxed. Relaxed enough to almost doze off when Atsushi finally spoke.

“That day was… strangely quiet,” he began, “I couldn’t hear anything. The birds weren’t calling; the wind didn’t speak; the waves weren’t breaking. I was speaking but I couldn’t hear my own words too. Maybe I was trying too hard to hear you.”

Imai felt an urge to say something but he held his tongue. After all, this was the first time Atsushi willingly spoke of his death day on his own accord.

“I don’t know what I said, but I kept getting frustrated when you wouldn’t- no, _couldn’t_ answer me,” Atsushi went on. “Everything hurt, I felt so tired… I used to think that nothing could hurt more than what they did to me for helping you leave the island,” he chuckled softly. “But then you wouldn’t wake up.”

“It was scary watching you age,” he continued. “I thought that we had similar life spans since we look the same, more or less. But when you started changing… I kept hoping that my own body would too. One day, sooner or later. Or so I hoped.”

Atsushi paused, taking in a deep breath and then letting out a heavy sigh. “I hated staying the same while you kept changing. I remember hating looking in the mirror. I _hated_ this body. Every day I begged the sea, the moon, _anyone_ to listen to me, to make me like you… They ignored me.”

“You never mentioned anything about this,” Imai muttered.

Looking over his shoulder, Atsushi looked forlornly at Imai and replied, “You would’ve tried to make me hate you sooner.”

“You know I wouldn’t have wanted you to stay if being with me made you unhappy.”

“But you did make me happy,” Atsushi stressed. “Happy enough to forget the impending moment when your body eventually expires while mine… remains the same. No one would speak to me while I sat up there on the cliffs; not the sea, not the wind, not the moon. What could they say? After decades of dissuading me from being with you and rejecting my wishes, what could they say?”

“You never told me about that either,” Imai said, feeling a bit stung. He knew enough people who were not very accepting of them, but those elements too?

“Wouldn’t you have told me to heed their words?”

Imai swallowed a lump in his throat. Atsushi knew him too well.

“Oddly enough, it was your voice I heard that night, calling me from the rocks below,” Atsushi muttered. “Even though you were physically wrapped up in my robes and lying in my arms. Even though you weren’t waking up. I heard you below the cliffs, calling my name, laughing, asking why I wouldn’t join you in the water… Till now I still don’t know what it was. Was the sea mocking me, or did I start hearing voices? But at that point, hearing your voice again just made me so happy… so happy… And so I followed.”

Atsushi fell silent and Imai too found himself at a loss for words. Watching the birds overhead soar high with the wind, he let the silence drag on as he quietly contemplated Atsushi’s words and wondered how he was so oblivious to Atsushi’s torment. But despite everything that had happened… “Now here we are,” Imai muttered.

“Somehow, yes,” Atsushi agreed, slowly turning to meet Imai’s quiet gaze with his glistening eyes.

Imai stretched out an open palm towards Atsushi, inviting him. Leaning over, Atsushi silently fed Imai the last bit of his ice cream cone, watching him chew as he gave Imai a soft smile. Imai twitched his fingers, beckoning Atsushi closer. Acceding, Atsushi shifted closer, laying his head on Imai’s chest with a quiet sigh.

“I still don’t know how this happened to you, or why we’re here,” Atsushi mumbled. “It seems like no one else has ever heard of this happening either.”

“Whatever it is, I’m here now, aren’t I? And it doesn’t look like I’ll be going anywhere without this time,” Imai remarked, holding Atsushi’s hand in his.

“If you do, I’ll seek you out and turn into seafoam right in front of your eyes.”

Imai laughed. “I might as well do the same then. There’ll be no other reason for me to live forever.”

Atsushi looked up and stared at Imai, searching his face for signs of jesting. Finding none, he looked away, struggling to hide his delighted smile. Imai then put his other arm around Atsushi, holding him as he continued watching the clouds in the now dimly lit sky.

“We should probably head back soon,” Imai muttered, absentmindedly caressing Atsushi’s hand with his fingers.

“Can we get more ice cream on the way back?”

“I suppose we have enough money for that,” Imai said, stifling a chuckle. “I’m surprised you still have an appetite for it after all that.”

“It’s not like we get to have it regularly these days,” Atsushi grumbled.

Imai hummed in agreement. It was true. “Thought of what you want?”

“Coffee.”

“Coffee? Weren’t you more interested in melon earlier?”

“We’ve already had apple and that’s sweet. Melon’s sweet too.”

“Ah, too much?”

“Coffee’s different.”

“I guess that’s decided then,” Imai concluded. “Shall we go?”

“Not yet,” Atsushi declined. “Just a while more, like this.”

“If you wish.”  
  


* * *

  
When Imai and Atsushi approached their stall, they noticed that the other Hisashi had left. The only person they could see was Takeshi. He stood in the back of the counter, head bent over while his hands busied with something. Their sandals scraped against the floor, announcing their arrival to Takeshi.

Looking up, Takeshi greeted chirpily, “Welcome back!”

“Thanks,” Imai muttered. “Where'd that guy go?”

“Grandaunt convinced him to come back another day,” Takeshi replied.

Imai hummed, relieved.

“But how'd she get him to leave?” Atsushi asked out of curiosity.

“He kept asking her who you were, so she eventually told him that you were the ghosts of her uncles and she wanted him to leave sooner to prevent the ghosts from possibly latching onto him and haunting him,” Takeshi grinned. “You should’ve seen how quickly he paled.”

“Ghosts, huh,” Imai chuckled. “I guess that’s something else we can add to our repertoire.”

“Uncle Hisashi? Uncle Atsushi? You're back?” Hina called from the kitchen. A moment later, she emerged through the curtains, a smile on her face. “Ah, just in time!” she exclaimed, going back into the kitchen.

“I suppose we don't need to go in then,” Imai surmised as he sat down on one of the seats in front.

“Feels weird being on this side of the stall,” Atsushi muttered, sitting down next to Imai.

Shuffling out of the kitchen, Hina brought two small bowls of stew with her. “I've left the stew on a low simmer so far, and this is what we’ve got now.”

The moment the aroma hit them, Atsushi immediately commented, “Smells different.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” asked Imai. Standing up, he took the bowls from Hina with a word of thanks before putting one down before Atsushi and sipping the piping hot liquid out of his own.

“It _looks_ different too,” Atsushi added, stirring the milky white stew with a spoon that Takeshi gave him. Taking a sip, Atsushi presses his lips thin and frowned. “Good or bad, I can't really say…”

“Compared to earlier?” Hina asked.

“Well, there’s definitely more flavour now. So… better than it was earlier,” Atsushi nodded. “But…”

“But?” Imai echoed.

“I still prefer what we have at home.”

“Ah, I suppose that’s to be expected,” Imai muttered. “After all, we can’t get the ingredients to replicate that here.”

Atsushi nodded in understanding as he took another sip. “I must say, the prawn flavour is really strong,” he added.

“Naturally, since we’re relying on that as the base for now,” said Imai.

“Just until we can find a reliable supplier for clams and other shellfish,” Hina piped in.

“That would be better, yes,” Atsushi muttered. “Just to balance out the flavours.”

Imai watched as Atsushi drank the last drops of the stew. “Anything else to add?” he asked.

“Hm?” Atsushi cocked his head to one side, curious. Sucking on his lips, he stared at the bowl as he pondered a little more. Eventually, he hummed and said, “There’s this aftertaste…”

“Is it good or bad?” asked Hina.

“It’s not chicken,” Atsushi muttered.

“That, it isn’t,” Imai confirmed. “But is it bad to you?”

“It’s not bad but I _know_ that the stew isn’t entirely made out of seafood,” Atsushi concluded.

Imai folded his arms and sighed as a troubled look furrowed his brow.

Putting a hand on Imai’s lap, Atsushi stressed, “That’s not to say that it doesn’t taste good.”

“Uncle Atsushi, was it obvious to you that there was a non-seafood element in the stew?” Hina asked.

“Well, no,” Atsushi replied. “I’d say that it’s unlikely that for someone to pick it up unless they were deliberately looking for that note.”

“But there’s an aftertaste,” Imai muttered.

“… Yes. A faint one,” Atsushi nodded. “But it could’ve stood out to me because I only ever eat seafood.”

“That’s true too,” Imai concurred. “Well, we intend to work on this for a couple more days so we’ve still got time to figure this out.”

“We can’t fish for them, can we?” Atsushi asked.

“Nope, the stew needs to be based on what’s readily available.”

“Right… but what else _did_ you put in?” Atsushi asked, leaning forward and looking into Imai’s eyes.

“Pork,” Imai answered. “Pork bones, to be exact- Why are you looking at me like that?” he muttered. “You don’t trust that I’d tell you?”

“I do wonder if you’d hide other ingredients from me just because I’m your test subject,” Atsushi huffed.

“I needed to know whether what we added was obvious to someone who didn't know about it,” Imai explained. “And I wasn't about to grab a random person to make them try it.”

“Uncle Atsushi, would you say that it doesn't taste like seafood stew now?” Hina asked, her mind still on the flavours of the stew.

“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” Atsushi replied with a lighter tone. “It's just a little different from what I’m used to. On the first impression though, it's definitely still seafood stew.”

“I guess that means we're on the right track,” Hina muttered, looking at Takeshi who was busy taking notes.

“I'd suggest keeping the weight of pork bones as it is while increasing the amount of seafood as and when possible,” said Imai.

Hina nodded. “You got that, Takeshi?”

“Yes, Grandaunt… I'll just go back in and check on the weight of the pork bones we used…” Takeshi replied, trailing off as he single-mindedly went back into the kitchen.

Imai caught a smile on Hina's face as she watched him go. “You seem happy,” he observed.

“Oh, definitely,” Hina admitted. “I'm glad there's finally someone who actually seems to care about the quality of what we put out.”

“You're thinking of handing the stall over to the kid?”

“Once he’s good enough, yes,” said Hina. “Do you approve, Uncle Hisashi?”

“Do what you deem fit,” Imai shrugged. “It's your stall now.”

“I still can't get things to taste as good as yours though,” Hina grimaced.

“I've already told you that there are limitations on-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Hina interjected. “I just envy how you made everything look so effortless.”

“I can't get things wrong, can I? Having married an agent of quality assurance,” Imai chuckled.

“I envy you,” Hina repeated. “I always have."

“Some things… Well…” Imai paused, sharing a look with Atsushi. “Let's just say it's not all-”

“Oh, I know,” Hina chuckled. “I used to wish I could find a relationship like what you and Uncle Atsushi have, but I should've known it was impossible,” she lamented. “Men around here are terrible.”

“Find a woman then,” Atsushi shrugged.

Imai stared at him, lips pressed thin.

“What?” Atsushi retorted.

“Anyway,” Imai muttered, changing the topic. “Wouldn't your son have something to say about the kid taking over, Hina?”

“Hm?” Hina looked up, shaken from her thoughts.

“Wouldn't your son object?” Imai asked again.

“Oh, that boy's useless with cooking,” Hina grumbled. “He's good at the management aspect of things but he still needs me to fix the stews every once in a while. It’d be good for him to have Takeshi to rely on in future.”

“I don’t expect him to be entirely receptive to this though,” Imai commented.

“He'll come to see sense,” Hina said dismissively. “He can't rely on me forever anyway. I'm not immortal, unlike you two.”

“I’m quite sure I was never meant to either though,” Imai muttered under his breath.

Hearing Imai's words, Atsushi glared at Imai and smacked his arm hard. The smack made Imai jolt upright, sitting up straight as he looked at Atsushi in surprise.

“Don't say that,” hissed Atsushi.

Amused by their banter, Hina burst out laughing. “Still the same as always,” she said with mirth in her voice.

“This one definitely doesn't change,” Imai muttered.

“Well, neither do you,” Atsushi retorted.

“Grandaunt, I'm done cleaning!” Takeshi yelled from the kitchen.

Getting up from his seat, Imai said, “I guess we should leave then.”

“I'll see you tomorrow then?” Hina asked.

“Yeah,” Imai confirmed. “Hopefully you'd find a better variety in the market tomorrow. Or maybe just bribe someone if you can't.”

“Hm, I was thinking about doing that if I can't find anything,” Hina mused.

“Thank goodness I never had to,” Imai huffed, taking Atsushi's hand in his. “Shall we?”

Atsushi smiled and nodded. Turning to Hina, they bade her farewell and sauntered off into the night, towards the promise of another day.


	6. 6

Atsushi flopped down on the bed and sighed. The end of the week came and went but they were still here. Despite being the one who was eager to visit in the first place, Atsushi now found himself relieved that they were leaving soon. He missed having Imai all to himself.

He turned and sat up, looking out the bedroom window and down at the moonlit beach. Folding his arms on the window sill, Atsushi lay his head down and sighed. With Imai spending most of his time on Hina's stew, Atsushi found himself helplessly jealous of Hina and Takeshi. He knew it was ridiculous, but he still felt it gnawing at him in his chest.

Just a while ago, Imai had gone out with Hina to go and look for the other Hisashi. He was apparently a fisherman too, and the two of them had the brilliant idea to ‘haunt’ him into giving Hina first pick of his daily catches. It would have been amusing to watch that happening but Atsushi opted out of going. He did not know why he said no either, but that sure did seem to perturb Imai.

Lifting an arm, Atsushi watched his flowing, iridescent sleeve flutter lightly in the breeze, like how it would against the currents when it turns into his fins underwater. He then draped it over his face, looking at the moon through its multi-coloured transcluence. As he idled while waiting for Imai's return, his mind began to recall how happy Imai looked while working on the stew with Hina and Takeshi. Another twinge of jealousy pricked at his heart and Atsushi bit his lip. When was the last time Imai smiled like that when it was just the two of them? Atsushi squeezed his eyes shut, hating how he could not recall any such instance. Was Imai really happy with him?

He sighed again, wrapping his arms around his head as he curled his fingers into his hair, gripping tightly in frustration. He should have known that being alone would do this to him.

With a heavy heart, Atsushi left his spot at the window sill and went to the coat stand where Imai's black robes hung. Taking it in his hands, Atsushi brushed his hand over the oddly uneven surface. As the prismatic colours jumped at him, he found himself wondering why Imai's scales would look like this, so unlike his smooth iridescence. Could it be that he does not belong?

Atsushi buried his face in Imai's robes. Breathing in deep, Imai's comforting scent filled his senses. He felt his throat constrict and his chest tighten. Imai has not been away for long but Atsushi already missed his warmth.

Gathering up Imai’s robes in his arms, Atsushi clutched the bundle to his chest, shuffling out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door. He felt the rough gravel under his feet transition to soft cool grass as he wandered around the back of the compound and past the chicken pen. Going with the whims of the wind, Atsushi kept walking until he came to a boulder by the sea. Without a second thought, Atsushi sat on it, watching the waves ebb and flow under the moonlight as they lapped at his toes.

Sitting here felt familiar. Atsushi had a vague sense that he had been here before, waiting for Imai. When was it? Trying to recall, Atsushi unfurled Imai's robes and put them over his head and around himself, wrapping himself in Imai's scent. Breathing in deep, Atsushi let out another soft sigh.

Oh, right. It was when Imai ran off to help with some emergency at sea. Atsushi wanted to go too but Imai was insistent that he went alone, albeit with the other sailors. He eventually came home exhausted in the dead of the night but Imai was adamant that keeping the secret of Atsushi's physicality was more important than anything else.

Atsushi smiled faintly at the memory, feeling a rush of appreciation as he looked down at the water beneath him. A sudden thought popped into his head. He was wearing his own robes but would Imai's latch onto his body if he went into the water? Driven by curiosity, Atsushi leaned forward, quietly slipping headfirst into the calm waters.

Watching the strobes of silver moonbeams dancing in the water, Atsushi felt his scales wrap around his body and his fins gently churning the water as he turned around to break the surface again. Breathing in the cool air, Atsushi could feel Imai's robes still on him, wet but separate from his body. He sighed. He did not know what he was expecting, but he did hope that perhaps something interesting would happen.

Languidly, Atsushi swirled the water with his fingers and pulled the robes around him. Engulfing his senses with Imai's scent again, Atsushi closed his eyes and let out a long sigh as he leaned back against the rocks. The intense longing for Imai began to build in his chest again and his lips parted, letting out a soft cry for Imai. Slowly, Atsushi slid back down into the water, curling his body into himself as he spun and twisted the robe around him.

The tension of Imai's robes against Atsushi's body mimicked the sensation of being held, soothing his yearning yet intensifying it due to the lack of physical heat. Hugging himself, Atsushi felt his body reacting to his desire for Imai and he instinctively jerked his hips, churning the water with his tail. His chest heaved as Imai's name left his lips over and over as if his cries underwater would somehow reach Imai's ears and bring him to Atsushi.

Loneliness surged back into Atsushi’s chest with renewed vigour and he felt his eyes grow hot. He could not feel it while submerged in water, but Atsushi sensed tears leaving his eyes. His lower half growing warmer, Atsushi arched his back and broke the water with his thrashing. Following his urges, he pressed a hand to his genital slit and felt the relief of pent up pleasure rushing through his body. Tasting the salty air, he cried out again for Imai.

“Atsushi!” A desperate cry suddenly rang out across the beach. “Atsushi! Where are you!?”

Recognising Imai's voice, Atsushi half-heartedly adjusted the robes around himself and turned towards the direction that his voice came from. Draping himself over the rocks, Atsushi buried his face in the sleeves of Imai's robe and smacked the water with his tail, hoping to draw Imai's attention. Softly, he moaned, “Hisashi…”

The calls paused and the sounds of water churning and splashing quickly followed. “Atsushi!” Imai sounded hoarse.

“Hisashi…” Atsushi was not even sure that Imai could hear him but his mind and body were far too clouded by his yearning and desire for him to muster enough strength for it. As he flicked his tail again and increased the pressure against his sex, Atsushi moaned softly while Imai's calls drew closer.

Without warning, Imai appeared at his peripheral vision, hair and clothes drenched and dishevelled. “Atsushi!”

Not expecting his arrival so soon, Atsushi turned away, backing into a corner as he felt the blood rush to his cheeks in embarrassment. Struggling to contain himself, Atsushi peeked out at Imai from under the robes, staring at him with an abashed expression. Eager for his touch, Atsushi let Imai's robes slip from his face as he reached a hand out to Imai, beckoning.

Imai hurriedly waded through the waist-high water, grabbing Atsushi by his hand and pulling him into a kiss. Pressing their lips together, Imai’s hands kept caressing Atsushi's face, stroking his cheeks as his fingers curled into Atsushi's hair.

Atsushi felt Imai's lips stretch into a smile as he broke away and once free, Atsushi shifted lower to kiss Imai on his jaw and neck.

Ignoring him, Imai sounded relieved as he whispered, “You're still here after all.”

Atsushi hummed absentmindedly, trailing more kisses along Imai's exposed chest while his fingers tore Imai's shirt away.

Relief quickly dissipated from Imai's voice and incredulity took its place. “What are you doing?”

Tossing Imai's shirt aside, Atsushi wrapped his arms around Imai. With his lower half between Imai’s legs, he pulled Imai closer. Pressed their hips together, Atsushi breathed with ardent fervour, “I want you to only look at me. I want your attention. I want your love. I want you.”

“Where is this coming from?” Imai asked, letting Atsushi lead him along without an answer. With his robes still on Atsushi, Imai cornered him against the rocks, following Atsushi’s lead into a deep kiss and accompanied by more groping.

Atsushi felt Imai’s arms around him, finally gracing his body with the touch that he had been yearning for. In his pleasure, he put a hand on Imai’s torso while his other hand proceeded to undress Imai further, flicking his pants button free and tugging the fabric away. Imai did not resist. Without his robes, neither his tail nor fins would form, leaving Imai’s legs free to straddle Atsushi’s tail.

With Atsushi leaning against a rock, Imai went down on one knee, leaning in. Atsushi felt Imai’s fingers teasing the softer scales around his slit, pressing and prodding until his fingers began to dip in shallow. Atsushi could barely fight the pleasure and he arched his back, pushing his lower half against Imai as he moaned. Suddenly, Imai paused, giving Atsushi a long look.

“Hisashi…?” Atsushi slurred, questioning.

“Atsushi…” Imai whispered. Caressing Atsushi face with one hand while the other pressed into his slit, Imai asked, “May I put…?”

Atsushi sucked in a shaky breath, gripped by unease. “I… don’t know how it’ll…”

Imai withdrew his fingers, gently brushing them over Atsushi soft scales as he spoke softly, “I don’t know either but if you don’t want to, I won’t.”

Putting his arms around Imai’s neck, Atsushi pulled him close and whispered, “I want you.”

“If it hurts-”

“I want you,” Atsushi insisted. “I want all of you.”

“-tell me,” Imai said firmly.

Atsushi looked away, feeling sheepish. Imai descended on him, nuzzling against him before giving him a peck on his cheek and Atsushi was about to smile back at him when he felt Imai’s erection pressing against his slit. Atsushi’s breath hitched and his grip on Imai tightened as he slowly pushed in.

The intense heat and pleasure of Imai’s erection squeezing into his slit to against his own phallus far more overwhelming than Atsushi could have expected. Digging his nails into Imai’s skin, Atsushi let his head drop back against the rock and let his voice out, moaning as his expression went slack. Imai too was not unaffected, burying his face in the crook of Atsushi’s neck.

Atsushi felt Imai’s breath against his skin, hot and heavy as he began to slowly thrust in and out of Atsushi. Once Imai started moving, Atsushi’s body was assaulted by a flood of pleasure unlike any other which melded together with his emotions. He could barely comprehend what Imai was doing to his body, much less think.

Held fast in Imai’s arms, Atsushi felt Imai’s kisses on his body and his fingers kneading the back of this neck. And as Imai sped up, an ache started building in Atsushi’s nether regions. It was not unpleasant. Instead, Atsushi found himself eager for it to intensify. Impatient, Atsushi moaned Imai’s name, moaned for more.

Imai complied with a grunt and thrust harder, pushing deeper in. Atsushi could feel Imai’s heavy strokes stimulating his own erection, rubbing bluntly against the inside of his slit. As Atsushi hoped, the ache grew stronger but yet it turned duller at the same time. He still needed more.

“Hisashi…,” Atsushi moaned, “more… love me more…”

Atsushi felt kisses and gentle nipping around his jaw before Imai came into view, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes. “How much more?” Imai whispered.

The tenderness in Imai’s expression as he patiently awaited an answer made Atsushi’s throat constrict. Choking out a word, Atsushi replied, “Everything.”

Imai huffed and smiled, muttering, “You greedy man.” He closed the distance between them in an instant, kissing Atsushi again.

Atsushi felt the ache grow in intensity as Imai moved, turning from a dull sensation into a heat which seemed to increase rapidly. As the warmth spread through his body, Atsushi’s kisses turned more passionate, as did his desperate scratching on Imai’s back. In turn, Imai’s clutches tightened, making Atsushi feel more at ease than ever. As the heat grew and Atsushi’s body hit its limit, Atsushi felt as if the fire in him has become white-hot, blinding him as the pent up pleasure unravelled all at once, wracking through his body with abandon.

Atsushi’s mind blanked out, feeling hot and cold at the same time until the pleasure gradually dissipated. He was barely aware of submerging into the water with Imai still holding him, sinking down to the sandy bed together. Atsushi could feel Imai’s gentle touch smoothing over his skin and his scales, caressing him as he lay in Imai’s arms.

The moment Imai’s touch left him, however, Atsushi felt his heart aching from the loss of contact. Reaching out, Atsushi muttered weakly, “Don’t leave me.”

Immediately, Imai returned, his fins and scales brushing against Atsushi’s as he whispered, “And just earlier I thought you left me for good.”

Atsushi let out a cry of distress at the thought of it. Hands trembling, he grabbed onto Imai tightly, shaking his head as he buried his face in Imai's chest. Atsushi took in a deep breath, trying to level his voice as Imai's presence engulfed him. “Why would you…"

“I come back to an empty house; I go home and there’s no one on board; my robe is missing and you’ve disappeared without footwear, what am I supposed to think?” Imai related. “I can’t even fathom why you would want to abandon me but I didn’t know what else to think,” he added, sorrow apparent in his voice. “Especially after how you’ve been rejecting me over the past few days.”

“I could never… unless you-”

“‘Unless I’ what?” Imai cut in angrily. “There's no instance where I’d want anything like that. Haven't I said this before?”

Atsushi whimpered uselessly, his grip tightening.

Imai sighed and ran his fingers through Atsushi’s hair. Softening his tone, he said softly, “May I remind you that I don’t ever want to be without you? How could you think I’d ever want that?”

With his face still pressed against Imai, Atsushi muttered, “You looked so happy working with Hina… probably happier than I’ve ever made you.”

Imai went still, staring at Atsushi. “You’re not seriously jealous of Hina, are you?”

Atsushi glanced up at Imai for a moment before hiding himself from Imai’s gaze again. He let out a forlorn sigh.

Imai adjusted his embrace, putting a hand on Atsushi as he sighed and said, “You know, Hina said she used to have a crush on you.”

“Bullshit,” Atsushi mumbled, elbowing Imai away.

“You can ask her yourself if you want,” Imai coaxed. “If anyone was to be jealous, it should be me. With the way you give in to her yet never to me.”

Atsushi jerked out of Imai’s embrace and spun around, pushing him to the floor and pinning Imai under him with a frown. Unfazed, Imai quietly watched and waited, languidly tapping his tail against the ground as his eyes wandered to admire Atsushi's hair swirling in the gentle currents. Unable to find words to say, Atsushi's expression eventually softened and tossed his frustration away, lying down on Imai without a word and entwining their tails together.

Rubbing Atsushi’s back, Imai muttered, “We'll finally get to leave tomorrow.”

“It's done?” Atsushi asked, looking up at Imai as he traced lines on Imai's skin with his fingers.

“I've done what I can,” said Imai. “I gave that other Hisashi a few pointers on where he should look for ingredients after he agreed to help Hina so things should get better going forward.”

“What if he doesn't keep to his word?”

“I'll eat him.”

“Hisashi!”

“What? I don't think he’d do that anyway.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I gave him a bit of our own stew and told him that's what Hina's aiming for,” Imai revealed. “And that she needs a reliable supplier for that.”

“… You didn't tell me you'd be doing that,” Atsushi muttered, slightly miffed that Imai gave away what was supposed to be theirs and theirs only.

“I figured it's better to earn his support than to have him do it out of fear,” Imai explained. “We have enough to spare anyway,” he added, rubbing Atsushi's back.

“You didn't tell me that,” Atsushi repeated.

“I'm sorry,” Imai sighed. “It was a last minute decision.”

Atsushi huffed before turning his large eyes to look up at Imai, making eye contact with him and commenting, “I like this apologising thing.”

Imai rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as he muttered, “Don't get used to it.”

With a small smile, Atsushi pushed himself up and propelled himself forward, coming face to face with Imai. Holding Imai's face in his hands, Atsushi dipped down, softly putting his lips against Imai's in a tender kiss. Imai smiled and he put a hand on Atsushi's back, applying pressure and holding him against his body as he savoured the kiss. They took their time, movements languid and slow, until Imai recalled something out if the blue and broke the kiss. Atsushi furrowed his brow, confused by the sudden change in mood.

“Hina and Takeshi are probably still searching,” Imai muttered to himself.

“For?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“I just- Well, anyway,” Imai muttered quickly, dodging the question. “There’s still stew waiting for you. It's probably gone cold. But you haven’t tried the final product,” he went on as he hastily got up.

“Why are they looking for me?” Atsushi asked, letting Imai take him by the hand and pull him through the water.

“I- Let's just go back in first,” Imai responded, heading straight for the shore. “Stew's turning cold and I don't know how that might affect the taste.”

Atsushi narrowed his eyes and sucked on the inside of his cheek, perturbed by Imai's evasion. Still, Atsushi chose to remain quiet about it for now. Shaking their fins and scales off, they stepped onto the sandy shore close to the house and walked up the slope.

Noticing that Imai was barefoot, Atsushi drew close and hugged Imai's arm as he asked, “Where are your sandals?”

“Back in the house,” Imai replied without looking at him. “I… ran out without them.”

“Hm? What was the hurry?” Atsushi hummed.

“If you really did run away, I'd have to go after you as soon as possible, right?”

“Do you _have_ to?”

“What if you've gone too far for me to find you?” Imai asked. “Or are you saying that I should take my time and let you gain that distance.”

Atsushi laughed. “Considering how badly you swim without fins and a tail, do you think you'd really be able to catch me if I meant to leave?”

“Well… I can try, right?”

Atsushi looked at Imai and hummed, casting his eyes to the sky as they entered the house. While Imai shut the door behind them, Atsushi turned and said, “You really love me, don't you?”

“Need you ask?” Imai muttered flatly, meeting Atsushi's grin with a humourless expression as he dusted his feet off.

Imai approached Atsushi meaning to pass by him and go in but Atsushi caught him by his waist, pulling him into his embrace. Atsushi smiled at Imai, touching noses with him as he nuzzled and brushed his lips against Imai's.

“Uncle Hisashi?”

Atsushi snapped his head towards the call and as he did, Imai slipped out of his embrace. He snapped his head back to Imai again, startled by his leaving.

“Yes, I'm back. I'll heat the stew up,” Imai muttered, walking off into the kitchen.

Atsushi stared after Imai as Hina came forward and hugged him, exclaiming, “Thank goodness!”

“Hm?” Atsushi tilted his head, perplexed.

“I was so worried when Uncle Hisashi said he couldn't find you just now,” Hina effused. “At least now he's back to normal.”

“Back to normal?” Atsushi asked as he started towards the kitchen.

“On our way back, he kept talking about how he thinks you've been distant recently and then you weren't here when we came back…” Hina sighed. “I've never seen him so distraught before.”

“Huh? He was…?”

“I stayed here to wait while he and Takeshi went out looking for you,” Hina went on. “I think that boy's still out there too. I should call him back in,” she added, stepping past Atsushi to put on her sandals. “You go on inside, Uncle Atsushi.”

Hina went out and closed the door behind her. Atsushi went into the kitchen and he found Imai pouring piping hot soup from a pot into a bowl at the dining table.

Noticing his arrival, Imai looked up and said, “Come eat.” Turning away, he put the pot and ladle into the sink and began washing.

Instead of sitting at the dining table, Atsushi went to Imai and hugged him from behind. Resting his head on Imai's shoulder, Atsushi looked up at him and muttered, “Hisashi?”

“Hm?” Imai continued washing the pot without sparing Atsushi a glance.

“Are you upset?”

Imai frowned. “No, I'm not.”

“ _Were_ you upset?”

“… Yes.”

“Hina said you were distraught.”

Imai pursed his lips and sighed. “I overreacted, alright?”

“I didn't mean to scare you like that,” Atsushi said gently, swaying as he hugged Imai.

Putting the pot aside to dry, Imai wiped his hands on a towel that hung nearby and muttered to himself, “That was embarrassing.”

Atsushi chuckled. “I don’t know why, but for some reason, I'm glad you reacted like that.”

“Sadist,” Imai hissed. Putting a hand over Atsushi's, he turned to look at Atsushi, saying, “But promise you won't do that again.”

Straightening up, Atsushi kissed Imai on his lips and said with a smile, “I promise.”

Only then did that familiar lopsided smile tug at Imai’s lips. He nuzzled against Atsushi and gave him a peck on his forehead. “Now go eat, your food’s getting cold.”  
  


* * *

  
 “He found Great-granduncle Atsushi?” Takeshi asked.

“Yes, he did,” Hina nodded as she led him back to the house. “It’s a bit of a mouthful calling them like that, isn’t it?” she remarked.

“Ah… but I don’t know how else I should address them,” Takeshi confessed.

“I’m sure it’s alright to call them by name,” Hina said. “I doubt they want to be reminded of their age while looking as they do these days.”

Takeshi nodded in understanding. “Hisashi sure did seem terribly upset though,” he observed.

“Well, of course,” Hina piped. “Wouldn’t you be upset if you had a girlfriend and she is suddenly nowhere to be found?”

“… Girlfriend?”

“Yes?”

“Like… romantically speaking?”

“Yes?” Hina stopped walking and stared at Takeshi. “What do you think their relationship is?”

Takeshi looked apprehensive. “F-friends? Like very close friends? Like Shion and me?”

Hina pursed her lips in disappointment. “I can’t believe you. Why do you think they’re wearing rings on their fourth fingers?”

“… They are?”

Closing her eyes, Hina breathed in and let out a deep sigh. How daft could he be? “Nevermind,” she muttered, continuing her way back to the house. “Forget I said anything.”

“Grandaunt, wait!” Takeshi took quick strides, catching up to Hina. “So… are you saying that they are…”

“They are what?” Hina asked.

“Like… ‘together’?” Takeshi ventured.

“‘Together’?”

“Um… as in, partners…?”

“Surely that much is obvious,” Hina muttered, arriving at the house and pushing the door open.

Takeshi's footsteps slowed and he stood at the entrance while Hina went in. “Oh.”

“Come on now, get yourself inside,” Hina chased, beckoning Takeshi into the house.

Quickly Takeshi went in, closing the door behind him before taking his sandals off. Hina went ahead, walking through the small living room and towards the kitchen.

“… and no more talk about leaving, you hear me?” came Uncle Hisashi's voice.

“You or me?” Uncle Atsushi asked.

“Both,” came the reply. “I'm going to say this again. I don't ever want to leave you, neither do I want you to leave me. So don't you dare to even entertain the thought of it. You hear me?”

“But-”

“No buts. That's it. Throw it out.”

“But-”

“Shut it. Eat your stew.”

“But-”

“Shhh!”

Hina could not resist laughing as she entered the kitchen. “We're back,” she announced, subconsciously noticing that the two men were playing with each other's hand on the table.

“Welcome back,” Uncle Atsushi smiled.

“How's the stew?” Hina asked, gesturing at Uncle Atsushi's now empty bowl.

“Sweet, creamy, and a lot better than what you last let me try,” Uncle Atsushi beamed.

“Better than Uncle Hisashi's?” Hina asked. Uncle Hisashi raised an eyebrow at her.

“You know that's as good as comparing crabs to clams,” Uncle Atsushi remarked, bursting out in melodious laughter.

“But surely you have a preference,” Hina said.

“You know I can't lie,” Uncle Atsushi replied, turning to look at Uncle Hisashi as he kissed his fingers.

Uncle Hisashi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If you're still not satisfied with it, we can stay longer and I’ll- Hey!”

Uncle Hisashi’s chair jerked as he yelped. From Uncle Atsushi's frown, it looks like he delivered a kick to Uncle Hisashi.

With an accusing tone, Uncle Atsushi hissed, “You just said-”

“I know, I know,” Uncle Hisashi acquiesced. Turning to Hina, he said, “We’re going to make a move tomorrow.”

Hina’s heart sank when she heard his words. She knew that they had no intention to stay but… “I always hoped that maybe you’ll somehow change your minds about going away,” she sighed sadly.

A chair scraped against the floor as Uncle Atsushi got up and enveloped her in one of his comforting hugs. “You’ve already convinced us to stay far longer than we otherwise would have.”

“I know,” she mumbled.

“And I’ve promised that we’ll come back to visit,” added Uncle Atsushi.

“I know,” Hina repeated. “I’ll still miss you both.”

Uncle Atsushi chuckled. “And we’ll miss you too,” he hummed. “But as Hisashi says, we don’t belong here.”

“I know,” Hina maintained, taking a step back. “I’m honestly happy enough that you brought Takeshi back and I got to see you two again.”

“What?” Takeshi suddenly popped in. “I heard my name being mentioned.”

“Oh, we were just saying that you’ve done well at the stall so far,” Uncle Hisashi jumped in, attempting to salvage things. “Keep it up and I think you’d be fit to take over.”

“Ah…” Takeshi beamed at the praise. “Thank you!”

Exchanging a look with Uncle Atsushi, Hina quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness Takeshi did not catch the full conversation.

“That said,” Uncle Hisashi continued, “we’ll be going away tomorrow so I trust that you’ll take care of Hina and the stall for us.”

“Yes sir, I’ll do my best!”

Uncle Hisashi seemed to stiffen for a moment before he nodded jerkily in acknowledgement. Lowering his voice, he caught Uncle Atsushi's eye as he muttered, “That said… We should…”

“Take our leave,” Uncle Atsushi finished.

Hina sighed, “I bid you safe travels then.”

“Don't look so sad,” said Uncle Atsushi, hugging her again. “We'll be back before you know it.”

“Don't promise something you can't keep,” Uncle Hisashi chastised as he came closer, wrapping Hina a hug as Uncle Atsushi let her go. “But we'll see you soon,” Uncle Hisashi muttered, giving her a quick squeeze before letting go.

Hina nodded, a soft smile on her face as she said, “You know where to find us.”

Uncle Atsushi nodded. Looking to Uncle Hisashi, he snaked an arm around his waist and asked, “Shall we?”

“We'll see you out,” Hina offered, walking them to the entrance.

Takeshi stood behind Hina as they watched her uncles open the door and let the sea breeze in. Looking over his shoulder, Uncle Hisashi said, “Well, see you in a bit. Don't miss us.”

“Yes, I'll try,” Hina nodded with a laugh. “We’ll see you soon.”

Addressing Takeshi, Uncle Hisashi went on, “Look after Hina, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Hisashi?” Uncle Atsushi called from outside, his long tresses fluttering in the wind.

Uncle Hisashi turned to look at him, then darted back towards Hina, giving her a quick peck on her forehead before muttering a final “See you soon” and walking out the door.

Following them out, Hina watched them stroll away hand in hand. Growing smaller until they reached the nearby knoll, they paused and looked back. Uncle Atsushi blew a farewell kiss while Uncle Hisashi gave them another wave of his arm before finally crossing over and disappearing.

“It’s going to be a lot more quiet around here,” Hina muttered to herself.

Takeshi hummed in agreement as he nodded. “Somehow I think I'm going to miss them.”

“They’re nice to have around, aren't they?” Hina smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Well, back to work Takeshi. We still have egg mixtures to prepare for tomorrow.”  


* * *

  
“I don't understand,” Imai puzzled. Gesturing angrily at the single staircase that led down to their bedroom and store, he growled, “Where are the stairs that led up?!”

“Well… At least we didn't keep anything in the wheelhouse, right?” Atsushi muttered, scratching his head as he stood behind Imai. “Maybe it changed because… something decided that we don't need it anymore?”

Imai had a look of angry confusion on his face as he tried to make sense of the sudden redesign in their vessel. When they returned last night and set sail, things were still the same as always, but upon waking up this morning…

“At least the sail is still there,” Atsushi went on, recalling what they saw when they went out briefly just now. “It looked bigger, actually.”

“But how do I steer?!”

“Um…” Atsushi walked through the new back exit that appeared with the disappearance of the upper floor. “There's a rudder you can steer with out here!” he yelled.

Heavy footsteps sounded as Imai stomped over to Atsushi. Stopping behind him, Imai stared at the new sight and wrinkled his nose. “How am I supposed to see where we're going?!”

“Lean to the side, maybe?” Atsushi suggested.

Imai groaned, clearly dissatisfied everything. “How did this happen!?”

“Probably the same way we got the boat,” Atsushi mused. “We're given what we need. Maybe.”

“But it's always grown bigger, why'd it suddenly shrink!?”

“Maybe it means we need less space?”

“But we're still the same two people but with even more things now,” Imai grumbled, folding his arms.

“Maybe… no more guests?”

Imai’s eyes shot to Atsushi. “I hope you’re right.”

“It would be nice, wouldn't it?” Atsushi beamed, leaning back into Imai's embrace.

“Still, it doesn't solve the question of how I'm supposed to steer without a clear view though,” Imai sighed, calming down with Atsushi's casual caresses.

“I can be your eyes,” Atsushi suggested.

“I suppose,” Imai muttered with resignation. “Until I figure out another way around this.”

“Or until the layout changes again,” Atsushi chuckled, straightening up and sauntering to the bow.

“Well, yes, or that,” Imai shrugged as he followed Atsushi.

After scanning the horizon for a moment, Atsushi put his arms around Imai's neck and gazed at him, asking, “So, Captain. Where are we headed to?”

Imai snorted and rolled his eyes. “‘Captain’,” he scoffed. Returning the question, he asked, “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you,” Atsushi cooed as he nuzzled against Imai who let out an audible sigh. Chuckling at Imai’s reaction, Atsushi said, “We could go looking for a desert island to claim.”

“Hm, that’s an idea,” Imai nodded. “But…” He looked up at the sails. “The winds seem to be taking us northwards.”

“You don’t think there’d be islands that way?”

“Even if there are, it might be too cold for us to stay there for long.”

“Ah, that's true,” Atsushi hummed.

“Though…” An idea suddenly came to Imai. “Have you ever seen snow at sea?”

Atsushi draped himself on Imai’s shoulders, eyes to the sky as he pondered. “I don’t think we’ve ever gone that far north before,” he muttered.

“Do you want to see it?”

“It would be nice… but what if it’s too cold for us?”

“We have clothes and covers in the store. Or we can always find a way to turn back,” Imai shrugged.

“I guess that means we’re going where the wind takes us then,” Atsushi concluded.

“For now,” Imai nodded, putting a hand on Atsushi’s arm. “Who knows what that’ll bring.”

Atsushi hummed quietly. “Whatever it is, I suppose we’ll be alright,” he muttered with a smile. “As long as I have you.”


End file.
